


Long Time Gone

by WildwingSuz



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-02 10:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10215692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwingSuz/pseuds/WildwingSuz
Summary: What happened to Mulder and Scully after the alien invasion in December 2012.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Thanks to my friend Alia who came up with the idea for the invaders’ food supply in her novel “Provender”.  I couldn’t resist borrowing it here.
> 
> When I was young I spent my summers on my uncle’s farm and winters in the city with my mother, so much of this is based on my own experience and knowledge.  Although I am finding myself doing a fair amount of research as I go along. 
> 
> The title is from the song by Crosby, Stills and Nash, 1969.
> 
> Spoilers:  A/U after the movie X-Files: I Want to Believe.
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

Many thanks to my beta Mimic117 as always for that sharp red pen.

 

 

 **Long Time Gone**  
Rated R  
Suzanne L. Feld

_~ I ~_

 

_April 2014_

Scully woke up feeling safe and secure, which wasn’t something she felt very often anymore.  Mulder was wrapped around her, one strong arm securely around her waist holding her back against him.  His legs were curled beneath her bent ones.  His breath ruffled her hair, soft rumbling snores issuing from behind her with every movement of his bare chest against her naked back.

 

Though it was unwise, they had gotten in the habit of sleeping in the buff.  Their boudoir, as Mulder had sarcastically named it, was safer than staying in their farmhouse overnight but if something did happen, they would have only moments to dress.

 

Scully no longer cared much.  If they were captured it probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

 

She could faintly hear birds singing, though nowhere near as many as they’d have later in the year.  Outside, the undergrowth rustled and branches snapped; she wasn’t alarmed as she knew it was probably foraging early-spring squirrels or one of the many feral farm animals in the area.  If not, well, she could think of no reason to get up and see, not when she had a delicious early-morning erection poking into her back.

 

Keeping her eyes closed Scully took hold of Mulder’s wrist and after a moment of resistance, moved his hand up to cover her breast.  At the same time, she rubbed back against his erection, which burned along her tailbone and lower back.  His fingers squeezed her rounded flesh gently as his snoring stuttered to a stop from behind her. 

 

“Good morning to you, too, Scully.”

 

She smiled, loving his deep, gravelly morning voice.  “I didn’t think you’d mind me waking you up in this case.”

 

“Astute, as always.”

 

His hand went from gentle squeezing to rubbing and caressing, and her nipple rose erect under his palm.  She let out a low moan as he pushed back against her ass, and she lifted her top leg to rub her foot along his calf.

 

The warmth of his hand and body disappeared and the covers were flung off.  Scully rolled onto her back, opened her eyes to the wooden board ceiling, and found Mulder’s face descending towards hers.  Though she hesitated to have him kiss her due to morning breath, he very shortly made her forget about it with his talented mouth.  His hands were all over her, running from her shoulders down her belly and lower to delve through her curls as he kissed her breathless.  Scully moaned again and ran her fingers through his soft, thick hair, then grabbed his shoulders and urged him over on top of her.  He resisted for a moment, then broke the kiss and groaned, “You ready?”

 

Though it was cool in the room, the remnants of the banked fire kept it from being too cold and the row of small windows along the top let in enough light for them to see by.

 

“For you?  Always,” she breathed, then sighed as he removed his fingers and moved between her spread legs.  He stretched out his long body on top of hers, sinking into her four-limbed embrace. 

 

Though morning sex was usually more along the lines of a quickie, this time Mulder managed to last a while, making love to her with long slow strokes, kissing her languidly all the while.  They were neck and neck at the finish, and ended up in a sweaty sated tangle afterward.

 

Scully reached down and tugged the covers up; it was cool in the room now that they were done moving, and sweating, despite the banked fire at the end of the bed.  They lay curled together for a while, dozing a bit, kissing and caressing.

 

“The animals aren’t going to feed themselves, Mulder,” Scully finally said with a regretful tone in her voice. 

 

“They did until they found us,” he argued, not moving as she sat up on the edge of the bed.

 

“And so they know they’ve got it good here with us waiting on them.  C’mon, I don’t want the cows to start a racket.”

 

Grumbling under his breath, he got up.  They dressed in yesterday’s clothes and headed out.  To leave the treehouse Mulder tossed down a rope ladder through a hole in the floor, which was covered with a board while inside.  After they were down, he used another rope, this one on a pulley, to take it up and pull the board back in place.

 

Next was a pit stop to the camping toilet a short distance away, hidden beneath a camouflage half-tent.  When the power had gone out last December so did their septic system and Scully, being a doctor, knew that they had to get rid of solid waste without endangering their water supply.  When they made their run to Richmond one of the books they’d picked up was a camping guide which explained how to make a safe, homemade chemical toilet from a large bucket, two garbage bags, quicklime, and a seat.  With a few tweaks, they had a safe and environmentally sound toilet.

 

As they walked through the woods toward the main house, Scully glanced back and was still impressed at how well camouflaged their treehouse was.  They didn’t feel safe staying in the farmhouse overnight; if there was anyone that the invaders probably wanted to get hold of, it was them. When they did captures, it was invariably at night. 

 

Mulder, though no engineer, had designed a sturdy hideout for their nights.  It started as an old child’s treehouse at the back of their property, a few yards into the woods and just before the wire property fence.  With help from books and the two of them puzzling over problems, it now comfortably fit both standing up, and had a sturdy full-sized rope bed with enough room to move around comfortably.  The fireplace was a metal fire pit on legs, and while there was no chimney the smoke got out via two rows of tiny windows just beneath the roof overhang.  While she wouldn’t want to live there for long, it was fine for the night.

 

Though they sometimes wondered if her implant could lead the invaders to them, they’d agreed to take precautions anyway.  The implant hadn’t bothered her since the incident at Ruskin Dam, so it was unlikely that it was still in use as a tracking device though it did seem to be keeping her cancer at bay.

 

It had been a warm spring and there was dingy snow lurking only in the darkest corners.  The temperature was nice for early April, around fifty or so Scully guessed. The forest they walked through was just beginning to bud, green sprouts pushing up through last year’s fallen leaves while sap surged through the trees.  If she knew how to identify the correct kind of maple tree, Scully thought, she’d love to try and make maple syrup.  That would probably take another trip to the Richmond library, but it wasn’t important enough to risk the dangers.  She wasn’t sure if the right kind of tree even grew this far south.

 

 _Ah, for the days of the internet,_ she thought wistfully as they stopped just inside the treeline, looking around carefully.  How simple it had been just to type a search term into the computer, and have the information you wanted delivered in moments. 

 

As they stood looking, several dogs came bounding across the open field, beginning to bark and yelp.  “Quiet, you guys!” Mulder called, to no avail.  Though the dogs had trickled in over the last few months along with other animals, they were already attached to their new owners.  The first, and largest, was a beautiful black and tan German Shepherd whose tag said her name was Rosie.  When they’d gone to return her to the address on the tag, they found bodies with the telltale pustules and swelling of the super-smallpox.  Rosie had whined and sniffed around, but went back with Mulder and Scully without hesitation.  While they weren’t sure how much dogs understood, it certainly seemed that this one knew her previous people were dead and had found herself new ones.

 

The other seven dogs were a mix of purebreds and mutts, mostly medium to large sized, all of whom had gravitated to the farm.  Mulder and Scully assumed that they had also lost their families and didn’t try to take them home, but made sure that word got out through the grapevine that they had the dogs.  No one had come to claim them, though they’d had given away several of the smaller dogs to travelers who wandered through and wanted them. The larger dogs were more use around the farm, although they did keep one small, scruffy terrier as a ratter since no cats had found them yet.  They were struggling to feed enough mouths as it was.

 

The dogs cavorted around them as they walked across the open field, keeping an eye out for alien aircraft.  Though the invaders had never bothered them, both knew that they weren’t out of danger.  In general, small bands of humans were left alone, but any group larger than two or three adults and a few children were either bombed to kingdom come or captured, it was guessed to be vessels for more aliens although no one really knew what they did with imprisoned humans. 

 

One thing was obvious—the invaders weren’t about to let a revolution come together.

 

As they approached the large, rather rickety grey stone barn, a cow mooed loudly.  Another joined it, and then there was a whole deafening chorus.  Added to it was the barking of the dogs, bleating, and clucking.  “It sounds like a goddamned circus,” Scully half-yelled as they went over to the closed double doors.

 

“E yi e yi yo,” Mulder hollered back, laughing, and helped her remove the heavy bar to spread the doors open.

 

Animals spilled out into the dirt yard between the house and barn—cows, goats, chickens, ponies.  Scully went to the side of the barn where a pair of stools and a half-dozen old, dented silver buckets were stacked. Mulder waited until the animals were a little calmer before taking hold of a large black and white spotted cow's halter and leading her over to where Scully waited.

 

Over the past year or so, quite a few domesticated animals had gravitated to them.  They soon found out why after a short trip—it turned out that they were the only humans in a ten-mile radius, maybe further.  When the animals began hanging out in the yard they were at a total loss as to what to do; they were both city-raised and had no idea how to take care of livestock. 

 

They had figured out that the cows and goats needed to be milked and managed that, though they didn’t know what to do with the buckets of thin, warm liquid.  When the other animals drank them, it was as good a solution as any.  At first they left the barn doors open at night so the animals could take shelter as they wanted, but they soon noticed a lessening in the number of chickens and even goats. 

 

Luckily, an older woman, Susan Kulwicki, who came to be treated for a sprained ankle had grown up on a farm and gave them a crash course in animal husbandry.  She showed them how to properly milk the cows (though they hadn’t been doing badly), how to handle the goats, and explained all about chickens—and what to properly feed all of them.  They were much more confident with the animals after her tutoring. 

 

She even showed them how to make butter, though she confessed that she had no idea how to make cheese which would be a good use of the milk.  That was another book they needed from the library if they ever dared go back.

 

Now, at night, they gathered all the animals up and herded them into the barn with the dogs’ help.  Most of the larger dogs were left loose on the fenced property, though they rarely barked and when they did, it brought both people to instant attention.

 

The only time it had panned out to be something other than people at the gate was the pig.  They had wondered where the animals were getting in at, and they found out when a medium-sized, reddish-brown pig decided to make a wallow in one corner of the cow pond on the north side of the property and the dogs led them to it.  Just past the pond, they found the fence broken and trampled down.  They didn’t, however, fix it so that more could come in if they found them.  None of the animals they already had seemed interested in escaping.

 

Unlike the others, the pig didn’t want to be caught.  It ran away from both people and dogs, although it stayed within the fence line.  Mulder and Scully decided to leave it alone; if it wanted food, it could come to the barn in the morning with the others.

 

Just a few weeks later they ran out of meat, the last being from a wild turkey they’d hunted, and Mulder got the bright idea to try and bag the pig since it wasn’t very large as pigs go.  Though she refused to shoot it, Scully agreed to butcher it.  They’d only killed fowl up to that point, but the thought of fresh pork chops got rid of any squeamishness she might have felt about butchering their own meat.

 

It was lucky that they were a hundred or more yards away when Mulder shot the pig in the head with a .308.  Instead of a gush of bright red blood, steaming green goo bubbled out of the wound.  The pig ran off through the break in the fence, though by carefully following the trail of green goo for almost two miles they finally found it dead deep in the forest.  And there they left it.

 

It wasn’t until then that they realized the invaders were truly here to stay.  Their guess was that the invaders had genetically modified Earth meat animals to be their food source.  The pig was the only one they had found so far, but they checked any new animals that showed up to make sure they were terrestrial. 

 

It had occurred to Scully that blood vessels were clearly visible in the eye, and it would show if they had green or red blood.  So each animal on the farm got its very own eye exam, including the chickens though they didn’t appreciate it even more than the others.  Both still had fading scratches from their disapproval.

 

Mulder brought the cows over to Scully to be milked, and when all seven were tied to O-ring bolts on the side of the barn they switched jobs, Mulder milking and Scully releasing the finished ones.  When the milking was done, the buckets were emptied into a large churn jar they’d found in the basement and lowered into the cool root cellar beneath the barn to chill, which was the first step in butter making.

 

While he finished up, she wandered through the barn looking for eggs.  They had begun building a coop for the chickens last year but with everything they had to do in a day, it was nowhere near finished.  So the chickens had free run of the inside of the barn along with the cows, goats, and the pair of shaggy yellow ponies that had wandered in a just a week or so back. 

 

She found a dozen or so eggs of different colors and sizes, tucking them into a hay-lined, threadbare old basket she’d found in the basement and now used around the farm, mentally thanking Susan again for teaching them how to deal with the farm animals. One of the most important things she’d taught them was how to make a manure pile and maintain it, as a clean farm is a healthy farm.  Also, how to candle eggs to make sure they weren’t fertilized, though since there was no rooster on the farm that wasn’t a problem--yet.

 

“Scully?  Ready for breakfast?” Mulder called, and she poked her head out of the stall she was in to see him hanging a coil of rope on a nail just inside the doors.  One of the yellow ponies was standing next to him, sniffling his hair, and he absently patted it as he waited for her.

 

“Did you put down fresh hay and feed?” she asked as she walked out into the wide aisle, the old wooden boards creaking beneath her feet.

 

“Uh-huh. Find any eggs?”

 

“A few, but I’ve got to test them first. I’m always afraid I missed them for days and who knows how rotten they may be.”

 

“I dunno, Scully, you do a pretty good job of finding them.  Maybe you’re part chicken.”  With one final pat he moved past the pony, who wandered off to join the group of other animals grazing on the emerging green shoots a short distance away.  He was carrying one pail half-full of milk, which they used for their morning coffee and, after chilling in the basement, to drink.  Though Scully was concerned about the lack of pasteurization, it hadn’t caused any problems so far.

 

She rolled her eyes at him as they went up on the small back porch, stomping and scraping the dirt off their shoes on the steps.  Rosie darted in front of them and pawed at the screen door, whining.  They always let her in first to check the house and she took her job seriously.  Two of the other dogs, a brown-spotted bulldog and a tan, curly-haired, medium-sized mutt, followed her when Mulder opened the door. 

 

“Tawny better not chew anything up,” Scully warned.  “I can’t just run to the store and buy new shoes next time she destroys one of mine.”

 

“Then keep them put away when she’s in the house,” Mulder said as they listened to the rattling of the dogs’ paws on the wooden floors.  “Or don’t let her in.”

 

Before Scully could reply, which she was about to rather heatedly, Rosie came into the kitchen and bounded over to them, a ratty green tennis ball in her mouth and long black tail waving.  Her reward for checking the house was a game of fetch, and Mulder took the dogs outside for it—all of them. 

 

Mumbling to herself, Scully set the basket of eggs on the table, then filled a metal Dutch oven with water from the hand-pump they'd installed in the kitchen sink and set it on the black iron burner grate on the stove.  She opened the oven to check the wood and kindling, which she’d refilled before leaving the house the night before, then took a lighter out of her pocket and lit the newspaper and hay beneath the logs. 

 

Though the stove had once been a regular gas-fed range, they had torn most of the guts out of it and, instead, filled the oven with logs and cooked on top.  Though it wasn’t perfect, it worked well enough, mostly to boil water and reheat leftovers.  Susan had also shown them how to make a ground oven, which they used to do most of the cooking when the ground was warm enough to dig.

 

Since it would be a few minutes before the fire was hot enough to boil water, she turned back to the egg basket.

 

Scully used the cold water in the pan to check the eggs.  One by one she gently dropped them in and if they sank to the bottom, she put them aside as useable.  Only two floated to the surface, which meant they were bad, and she tossed them in a large barrel nearby as organic waste which would go into the mulch pile.  When she was done there were nine good eggs, the most they’d had since last autumn when the hens stopped laying for the winter.  It was a good thing that Susan had told her they didn’t lay in cold weather, Scully mused, because otherwise she would have thought there was something wrong with the birds and probably tried to treat them. 

 

She never thought she’d be a veterinarian, yet so far she’d reset one of the dog’s hips after it popped out of the socket, removed porcupine quills from another, and sewed up a superficial but long cut on one of the cows’ legs among a few other cuts and scrapes.  She wasn’t sure if she could do much else, but she was finding that despite the species, mammals were enough alike that she was able to doctor just about anyone if it was something she could diagnose and understand.  She was hesitant to use drugs on them, but luckily the situation hadn’t come up other than a local anesthetic for the cow’s cut.

 

She did get to practice on humans as well.  Word had gotten out among the survivors that she was a doctor, so every now and then someone turned up on their doorstep needing care.  Since the invasion Scully had delivered three babies, sewn up dozens of wounds, removed five bullets and treated several other through-and-through gunshots, and even removed a crossbow bolt from the shoulder of an unlucky hunter whose buddy thought he was a deer, among others.  They had put a sign on their gate warning all visitors to wait there due to guard dogs, and that no more than two people at a time could be at the gate.  So far, it worked. 

 

They were also a sort of waystation.  Shortly after the invasion began in December 2012 and Our Lady of Sorrows got swamped with the sick and dying, Scully figured out what was going on.  But she ended up getting fired when she tried to tell her superiors what was happening.  Instead, she and Mulder went to volunteer at a public clinic, which was equally overwhelmed.  When it got to the point where there were more dead than alive, they finally stopped going although they made sure that word got out as to where they were.  Now they collected food, clothing, and other supplies as payment for her medical services and then passed along what they could to others who stopped by in need.  Sometimes it was just a duffel bag full of onions or a pile of clothing, but almost every morning when it wasn’t freezing out, there was something left at the gate or people camping there, waiting for them.  That reminded her.

 

“Hey Mulder, why don’t you go check the gate while I’m getting breakfast?”  She went over to the open back door and found Mulder just throwing the ball, which the German Shepherd leapt up and caught, much to the annoyance of the other dogs.  “It’s going to be a few until breakfast, you know how long it takes to get water to boil.”

 

“All right.  C’mon, guys, let’s go check the mail.”

 

Scully smiled to herself.  Whether it was people waiting or retrieving dropped-off supplies or whatnot, it was “getting the mail” to Mulder.  Which was ironic, because of course there was no more mail delivery.

 

She was glad that it was sunny enough not to have to light a lamp, and that a bank of long windows next to the back door let in enough light to see clearly as she worked. She was chopping onions at the butcherblock table near the windows when the dogs began to bark outside, excited and concerned barking; she’d gotten to understand their tones.  

 

As she reached the front door, she saw Mulder coming across the front yard with an adolescent boy walking next to him, the dogs cavorting around them both.  The kid, who seemed tall for his age, had a full backpack on and was carrying a bulging duffel, while Mulder had two more cloth bags that looked to be stuffed full.  He was wearing a pair of what looked like new jeans and a plain black shirt beneath a too-small denim jacket that showed his thin wrists.  She went out onto the porch to help them as they reached the bottom of the stairs, but froze with the breath caught in her throat as the boy stopped and looked up.

 

Her own clear blue eyes gazed back, but set in Mulder’s face and topped with a shaggy mop of dark reddish-brown hair.

 

It was William.  There was no one else it could be.

 


	2. Chapter 2

****

**_~ II ~_ **

 

"Scully..." Mulder's voice shook as he set down the bags he was carrying. "This is Willem Van De Kamp."

 

“Dana-mom!” The boy, tall for his age, shrugged off his backpack, dropped the duffel bag, and ran up the stairs to her.  “I never stopped believing. I _knew_ I’d find you!”  His voice cracked on the last half of the sentence, but she understood every word as he threw his arms around her. 

 

Scully hugged him tightly, mind whirling and feeling somewhat dizzy.  She inhaled his scent, knowing that she would have recognized him by that if not his facial features.  He still smelled like the baby she’d cuddled to her breast and never stopped missing all these years.  He was a few inches taller than she, not as tall as Mulder though just as lanky.  He had to be about thirteen, she realized.  “Willem?” she said.

 

“Yeah, my folks thought it fit better with my last name,” the boy said, letting go of her and stepping back, still grinning widely.  God, he was handsome; his smile was Mulder’s set in a younger face.  “But you can call me William if you want, I know that’s how you think of me.  Pretty much everybody did anyway.”

 

“I—what--” Scully’s mind was blank; she couldn’t seem to pull her thoughts together.  It was too much, and unexpected.   

 

“Maybe we should go in the house,” Mulder said, lugging all the bags and gear up onto the porch.  “There’s a lot to discuss.” 

 

 _Understatement of the year,_ Scully thought.

 

A few minutes later they were standing around the kitchen table, William sorting the bags.  His backpack and duffel bag he put on the floor but left the other two.  “I found these by the gate, there’s clothes and books and some other stuff.  Are they yours?”

 

Mulder dug through them briefly, set them by the doorway, then pulled out a chair and gestured for William to take another.  “People leave stuff here and others come by in need, and we give them what we can,” he explained.  “We’re a kind of waystation, I guess you’d say.”

 

Scully went to the stove and saw that the water was just starting to boil, and scooped it out into two mugs.  She even remembered to set the small manual timer that sat on a shelf nearby though her hands were trembling as she did so.  “William, um, did you want something to drink?  We’ve got milk fresh from the cows, or cold water or, uh, instant coffee.”

 

“No thanks, I’m good.”

 

Her mind was whirling, and she wondered how Mulder was so calm, and not firing question after question at William.  She had no idea what to say to their son, if he hated her for giving him up, or how he knew their names.

 

That was the first question to ask, she decided.  “How did you know how to find us, and who we are?” she said quietly, not turning around as she scooped instant coffee into the mugs and stirred.  It wasn’t the Starbucks she’d preferred pre-Invasion, but it was better than nothing at all.  Barely.

 

“I’ve always known about you, _felt_ you, I guess you could say,” he said from behind her.  “I’ve felt you both in the back of my mind ever since I can remember.”

 

“Can you read our minds?” Mulder said, his voice tight.

 

“No, nothing like that,” the boy said a bit defensively.  “Kind of like a warm spot in the back of my mind, is the best way I can describe it.  I always knew who you were, and started calling you Dana-mom and Mulder-dad in my mind so I wouldn’t get confused.  Is that okay?”

 

Scully took a deep breath and turned around with the steaming mugs in her hands, which were no longer shaking—but not by much.  “Of course,” she said with relief even as Mulder nodded. 

 

William looked over at his father.  “I know you don’t like to be called by your first name, but I don’t know what it is.”

 

“Oh, God.  Okay.  It’s Fox… Fox William Mulder,” he said with a shake of his head.  “The bane of my existence.”

 

“Cool.  So, I was named after you?”

 

“And both of our fathers,” Scully said, setting the mugs on the table, then reaching for the milk bucket which sat nearby.  “I think Willem was an excellent idea; I assume your, ah, parents knew your real name?”

 

“Yeah, but just my first name.” The boy looked sad, downcast, very suddenly.  Scully glanced over at Mulder after she finished pouring milk into both mugs and saw her thoughts mirrored there; what had happened to his adoptive parents?  “They told me that my real mom only gave me up because she couldn’t keep me safe.  I always thought you were a spy.” He looked up at her with the ghost of a grin that faded almost as fast as it showed.

 

Mulder huffed a little.  “We were FBI agents when you born, and did enough undercover work that we might have been considered spies, at times.  Although you’d never guess that now,” he added in a derogatory tone, waving his hand first at himself, then over at Scully.

 

That was so true, she thought.  Long gone were her spotless lab coats, comfortable scrubs, and of course 3” heels.  She was wearing a pair of heavy black jeans rolled up at the ankles, a dark grey sweatshirt that was at least a size too large, and a pair of boys’ hiking boots that only fit with two pairs of socks on.  It wasn’t easy to find her size anymore, and especially not in a rural area.  She and Mulder trimmed each other’s hair; he liked hers long so she kept it either in a single braid, like today, or back in a ponytail. 

 

As for Mulder, she wasn’t sure if he even remembered how to tie a tie.  After their last case with the FBI in 2008 he’d finally taken her advice and published a non-fiction novel of their X-Files cases, and sold enough to do a reading tour.  Even then, he’d often dressed in jeans, button-down shirts, and suit jackets, joking about his image as a sexy professor.  Now, he wore a pair of camouflage pants, a grey t-shirt with a thick, pilled navy sweater over it, and scuffed black Army boots.  He had a neatly trimmed beard, though he had shaved it last summer explaining that it got too itchy in the heat.  She assumed he would again this year and was looking forward to seeing the rest of his face.

 

“William… do you want to talk about your parents?” Scully said carefully as she sat down to his right, then lifted her mug to take a careful sip.  She understood that to him, the Van De Kamps were his parents and made sure to refer to them as such.  “Where are they?  Are they all right?”

 

“Nope, they died, just like everybody else around us,” the boy said with a sigh.  She reached out and put a hand on his narrow shoulder briefly without thinking about it, and he flashed her that ghostly Mulder smile again.  “I knew something bad was happening, and I kept telling them we needed to get out of town.  We had a hunting cabin up in the mountains where we would have been safe, but they wouldn’t listen to me. By the time they believed me, it was too late.”

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Mulder said, cupping his mug with both hands.  “When did it happen?”

 

“They were both gone by the end of February last year,” the boy said sadly, eyes downcast.  “I stayed on the farm by myself for a while, then our neighbor Frank came by and said I should come live with him since his family died too.  But he’s kinda creepy so I left to see if I could find you guys instead.”

 

“How long have you been traveling?” Scully said, surprised.

 

“About a year or so,” he said with a shrug.   “I guess.  I stayed in a couple of refugee camps, but the aliens always came after them and no one would listen when I said it was time to go.  I don’t know how, but I can tell when something bad’s going to happen to do with _them_.  I knew when people started getting sick that it was an alien invasion, though I didn’t dare say that or they’d have thought I was bugshit.”  His face colored and he quickly added, “Uh, sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”

 

Scully was fighting a grin, while Mulder didn’t bother and smiled at the boy.  “No worry,” he said.  “And yeah, we know about the capture or killing of any group larger than five or six people.  I’m glad you didn’t get caught in that.”

 

“Do you know why they’re doing it?” William asked, looking back and forth between them. 

 

“Our guess is that they don’t want people to get together and form a resistance, or rebel force,” Scully said, thinking that he might understand the Star Wars reference a little better.  “Although how they find groups of people we’re not sure.”

 

“Probably thermal imaging or something along those lines,” Mulder added. 

 

Just then the timer went off and Scully got up.  “Are you hungry, William?” She turned off the timer and then used two small towels to move the pot of boiling water to the sink.  Next she would empty it, then pump ice-cold water into the pan to cool the eggs.  “I was going to make egg salad for breakfast, and probably lunch as well.”

 

“That sounds really good—I’ve mostly been living off Spam and whatever else I could find in grocery stores since it got cold,” he said enthusiastically.  “Can I help?”

 

“Sure, why don’t you come down to the cellar with me?  We store our perishable food down there since it’s cold,” Mulder rose.  “Your mo—uh, Scully—“

 

William also stood and quirked a corner of his mouth.  “My Dana-mom, you mean.  Sure, I’d be glad to.”

 

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances before the guys moved away towards a door at the other end of the kitchen. 

 

 _He’s your son all right._  

 

_No, he’s yours.  For sure._

 

Mulder took a glass chimney hurricane lantern from a hook on the wall and lit it before opening the door, then led the way down the narrow stairs into the dark, dank basement.  Though he’d never mentioned it to anyone, he was always glad when someone came down here with him.  It brought back too many memories—Flukeman, the Kindred, Tooms, and other unpleasant dark places he’d been.  Though he wasn’t exactly afraid of the dark, he couldn’t help but remember the many monsters they’d gone up against in the old days and wouldn’t be surprised to find one down here, waiting to take them on again.  Or even worse.

 

His head cleared the basement’s beamed ceiling, but not by much.  He gestured around as William joined him.  “We’re lucky that whoever had this house before us wasn’t into finishing their basement.”  He swept the beam over the dirt floor, then around to show the cinderblock walls, and finally stopped it on a huge, homemade wooden shelving unit that took up one entire wall.  There were a few small glass block windows up near the ceiling, though they didn’t provide much light.  “These are our stores of canned goods, both homemade and store-bought.  Or liberated, you could say.”

 

He went on to explain how he and Scully had made several trips around the immediate area in the last year and a half.  Where they found empty stores or houses they’d scavenged everything they could and brought it back.  “Although the invaders have the cities and it’s dangerous to go in them, as you probably know, we made a trip to one of the Richmond libraries and got some books on gardening, camping, and that sort of thing.  I don’t know if you’re aware, but your Dana-mom and I are both city born and bred.  We didn’t know anything about farming.  We only moved out here because I was wanted by the FBI.”

 

“You’ll have to tell me more about that later,” William said as they walked to the far end of the basement.  Though it had been half-filled with junk when Mulder and Scully had moved in back in 2005, they had cleared most of it out over the last year or so, partly to use and partly to give away.  Now it was mostly empty except for the wringer washing machine next to the old cement laundry tubs, and some broken furniture they were saving to burn, as well as banks of shelves along most of the walls that held supplies, everything from laundry detergent to home-canned jellies and dry cereal.  “So, what’d you learn from the books?”

 

Mulder chuckled, stopping at a portion of the cinderblock wall that had a large piece of wooden board stuck on it.  “More than I like to remember.  Even though I have an eidetic memory, it’s been a lot to absorb.  But here’s something we figured out on our own.”  He reached up and curled his fingers around the top of the board, and tugged.  It popped out of a hole that went three feet or so back into the bare ground, filled with bowls and wrapped packages.  A cold breeze wafted out, smelling of herbs and clean dirt.  “Ta-da!  A real live root cellar.  We pulled out the cinderblocks to make it.  It’s where we store anything that needs refrigeration or, in the winter, to be frozen.”

 

He reached inside and pulled out a large orange, old-fashioned Tupperware bowl and handed it to the boy, then grabbed a smaller brown one.  “Check these out—we make our own butter and mayonnaise now,” he said, opening the second bowl.  It was half full of a thick, creamy substance that, to Mulder, smelled more like vinegar than anything else and yet was a better mayonnaise than they used to buy in a store. 

 

“Did you guys fall in a hole or something down there?” Scully called from above.  “If you want breakfast, you’d better bring the supplies up here ASAP.”

 

Mulder snapped the lid shut and handed it to the boy, then replaced the board on the hole and gave it a thump with his fist to make sure it was secure.  “Don’t doubt her,” he advised as they turned back towards the stairs.  “Take everything she says at face value, unlike most other women.”

 

When they got upstairs Mulder saw that Scully had everything ready, including already slicing the homemade bread and having shelled the eggs.  “Mulder, you forgot to take the milk down,” she said, pointing at the bucket on the other end of the table with the paring knife she was holding. 

 

“I’ll do it!”  William said eagerly, going over to grab the bucket then taking the still-lit lantern from Mulder and heading for the basement door.  “I like to stay busy.”

 

“Be sure to push the board in all the way,” Mulder called after him as the boy clattered down the stairs.

 

“I will,” he called back, voice echoing up the stairway.

 

Mulder walked over to the table and put an arm around Scully, kissing the side of her head.  “Are we dreaming?” he whispered.

 

She slid the arm that wasn’t holding the knife around his narrow waist and leaned against his solid warmth.  “If we are, don’t wake me up.” 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**_~III~_ **

 

 

 

He was home. Finally, after almost two years, he was home again.

 

Which included the barn he was presently sleeping in, especially since it was more comfortable than most of the places he’d been spending nights in over the last year or so.  Dana-mom had helped make him a bed in the hay loft, insisting on using sheets and blankets and a pillow over a two-foot-tall mound of loose hay.  Though he didn’t say anything, William had waited until they left, then pulled out his comfortable sleeping bag and put it on top.  He did use the pillow.

 

He had loved his parents and the farm in Wyoming and pretty much everything about his life (other than school; he got good grades but he hated being stuck indoors all day) William had always known that there was something missing.  Ever since he could remember there had been a sort of warmth, a glow, in the back of his mind that tugged him east. 

 

And here he was.  His birth parents weren’t at all what he’d expected and yet he wasn’t surprised.  The moment he’d seen Mulder-dad walking towards the gate something in his mind snapped into place and all his uncertainty vanished.  Though the older man had looked shocked when William hugged him, both of them had hugged him back and that was all he needed to know.  He could feel their shock, but also the love that they had never lost for him.

 

 ~~I~~ t was pitch-dark in the barn, but William was more comfortable than he’d been since leaving Wyoming.  It smelled like home, of leather and hay and manure.  He could hear the animals breathing and occasionally rustling around below.  He’d brought the little terrier up with him in case of rodents when he found out that there were no barn cats.  Still unnamed, he slept next to the pile of loose hay that William was on. 

 

Over the last few months William had gotten good at blocking out all the bad things that had happened while he’d been on his journey.  Though he’d never been physically harmed, he would never forget some of the horrible sights and occurrences.  Still, he wasn’t going to let those memories rule him, because he had a new life now.

 

Though he was tired, he couldn’t seem to sleep.  He was too excited. 

 

For the first time in his life he was in a place to teach something to other people, his birth parents no less.  It wasn’t until they were showing him around yesterday that it seemed to sink in that he had grown up on a farm.

 

William smiled in the dark, eyes still closed.  The first thing he’d done was identify the ponies, to his parents’ amazement.

 

“These guys are Haflingers, small draft horses, not ponies.” They were standing and petting the horses in the dooryard.  Neither wore a halter, but were so friendly that he suspected they would just follow people around.  Whomever raised the horses had done it right.  “My dad and me used to go to plowing competitions and draft horse shows with our horses.  Some folks from Cheyenne had an eight-hitch of Haflingers that we showed against, that’s how I know what they are.”

 

Mulder-dad and Dana-mom stared at him like he’d grown a second head. 

 

“If we can find harnesses and a cart to fit them, I can hook them up,” he’d said, deliberately casual and feeling cool as hell, not something he’d experienced much in his life.  “They’re probably broke to ride, too.”

 

Then the questions started, most of which he could answer.  He almost forgot why he was there as he basked in their attention; no one had ever come to him for advice or help before. 

 

Still, he was impressed at what they’d managed on their own, with just the help of a few books and one person who’d only stayed a few days.  They’d gotten a book on lasagna gardening from the library, which he’d never heard of, but it made perfect sense once they showed him how it worked. They’d done it the year before as well. 

 

It wasn’t a good technique for large areas, but the roughly half-acre plot they were using was just the right size.  Instead of tilling up the earth, in early March they had begun laying down wet newspaper, then mulch, then a layer of soil, another of mulch, and finally one last layer of dirt.  As the season advanced the layers sank into the ground, the newspaper both drawing worms to the degrading material and helping keep weeds back.  Within a month, it had merged into rich, thick black dirt.

 

They had already planted some cold-resistant seedlings they’d started in the house, as well as sugar snap peas, onions, and spinach which were put in the ground while it was still half-frozen.  They had a tall metal chicken-wire fence around the entire plot, which he knew must have taken a lot of work.  When he asked, he wasn’t surprised to find out that they’d lost a lot of last year’s crop to deer and other foragers before they built the fence.

 

He finally began to doze, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time since he’d begun getting those alarming feelings of danger almost two years ago.  He was where he was supposed to be, with people who loved him, and for whom he could make a difference.  While he deeply missed his parents, he knew they’d be happy that he was safe.

 

**_~ ~ ~_ **

 

The restlessness of the animals woke him.  Though there was nothing alarming going on that he could tell, he got up and peered over the edge of the loft in the dim morning gloom.  The cows, goats, and horses were gathered around the big double doors, which were still closed, moving around impatiently and shaking their heads.  The chickens were perched on the hay balesstacked on both sides of the wide aisle.

 

The little unnamed dog came over and stood next to him, whining.  “You gotta go too, huh, buddy?” he said to it, and the stubby brown tail wagged madly.

 

Just then the doors creaked from below and the animals burst out into a deafening barnyard chorus, pushing up against them until they could get out.  Their hoofbeats disappeared abruptly as they went from wooden boards to dirt.  “William?” His Dana-mom’s voice was just audible over the noise.

 

“On my way,” he called back, jamming his bare legs into jeans.  He preferred to sleep in just his underwear and socks, having discovered that it was the warmest in a sleeping bag if he was indoors and not subject to wind.  The little brown dog yapped and ran over to the ladder, then looked back at him with its head cocked as if to say, _you coming?_

 

William laughed, and it felt good, as he finished dressing.  After his parents died and that creep-ass Frank had started hanging around he was afraid he’d never feel happy again.  Now, he had real hope where there had once been only the promise of it.

 

The little dog whined as he drew near and William leaned down and scooped him up, then descended the ladder holding him firmly to his chest with one arm.  Luckily the loft wasn’t as high as the one in his parents’ big barn, only about fifteen feet above the floor.  “Gotta think of a name for you, little buddy,” he said as he set the dog on the hay-scattered, scarred boards. 

 

The scruffy-looking terrier darted out the open double doors and Dana-mom looked in at him from outside the barn.  “Everything ok?” she asked, moving aside as he walked out.  Unlike yesterday which had been sunny and almost balmy, today it was overcast and a good bit cooler. 

 

“Yeah, just need to, uh…” feeling his face burn, he gestured at the far corner of the barn.

 

She chuckled.  “Go, go, before you burst.”

 

He relieved himself against the far side of the barn, then made one trip back up to the loft to get his jacket.  The little brown dog found him as he headed for the house, and when he broke into a run the dog kept up, racing along at his heels. 

 

It wasn’t until they reached the porch and slowed that William heard voices, and turned to see his birth parents standing by the side of the barn with the cows clustered around them, calling and waving to him.  “C’mon, race you there, buddy!”  he told the little terrier, and took off again.

 

Several of the other dogs joined in the race, the big black German Shepherd outrunning them all. She continued past where the other animals and people were gathered as William and most of the other dogs stopped. 

 

“Sorry—thought you’d be at the house,” he gasped, out of breath.  But it felt good, to be running just for the fun of it instead of away from someone or something that wanted to hurt him. 

 

Both were smiling at him.  “We take care of the animals first,” Mulder said.  “Susan taught us that.”

 

“My parents did too,” he said, going to help as they showed him where everything was.  “We had herds of both beef and dairy cattle, kept separate of course, but they were all milked at the same time with machines.  We did that before breakfast.”

 

They questioned him about his previous life, Dana seeming impressed at his grades (he didn’t tell her how much he hated most of school) and Mulder puffing up with pride when he found out that William had played baseball, soccer, and ran track.  When they asked him what he’d wanted to be, he answered without even realizing that it was being said in the past tense.  “I wanted to be a veterinarian, but I didn’t like the chemistry classes and all that.  I was thinking about being a park ranger or zookeeper, maybe, and wanted to have my own farm too.”

 

“You didn’t like chemistry?” He looked up to see Dana smiling at him across the brown cow’s back as he untied it.  “Did you know that I was a scientist?”

 

He grinned back.  “Nope.  So you were a scientist and an FBI agent?”

 

“And a medical doctor specializing in pathology and, later, pediatrics.” Mulder was stacking buckets just behind her.  “She’s a woman of many talents, your Dana-mom.”

 

William was relieved that they seemed to be fine with the names he’d picked for them, and used them easily.  Though he did have to admit that he was beginning to think of Dana-mom as Scully, since that was what his dad called her.

 

“Not the least of which is the talent to put up with you,” she said drily, and squealed as Mulder grabbed her around the waist from behind and kissed her cheek.  The cow, startled, sidestepped into William and knocked him on his butt.  Though he wasn’t the least bit hurt, he rather enjoyed that they fussed over him as if he’d been shot or something.

 

Scully insisted on making a venison roast for dinner to celebrate his arrival.  After breakfast, she put him and Mulder to enlarging the ground oven while she got a roast from the basement.  “How do you cook in a hole in the ground?” William asked.  He loved learning new things—as long as it wasn’t in a boring classroom.

 

“Basically, you light a fire in the bottom, let it burn down to coals, then add your food wrapped in tinfoil and cover the whole shebang with dirt,” Mulder said.  “It insulates and cooks just as good as a regular oven if you’re careful with the amount of coals.”

 

“Where’d you learn that from?” William was digging with a small spade, widening the sides of the existing square hole which had a layer of ashes and a black iron grate in the bottom. 

 

“From a backcountry camping book.  That’s also where we learned to make a chemical toilet and how to cook over an open fire.”  Mulder was kicking clods away from the hole as William dug them up. 

 

When they finished by lighting a fire on the grate in the bottom of the hole, Mulder picked up four tall, thin sticks he’d removed from the hole earlier and put them in the corners of the pit, the ends just sticking up past the dirt.  “And that’s how we know where to dig it up.”

 

They went in the house to wash up and found Scully standing at the table, a large, marbled roast sitting on a thick sheet of foil in front of her, inserting garlic cloves into small slits in the meat.  “Your Mulder-dad bagged this deer last week,” she said proudly as they took turns washing in the ice-cold water from the pump.  “And I butchered it, although I don’t think you could name the cuts I made the same as you would in a store. This is, more or less, a shoulder roast, and it should be nice and tender.”

 

“How long will it take to cook?”  William asked.

 

“Probably around six or seven hours, but I’ll keep checking it.  Once it’s in, we’ve got seeds to plant,” she added, looking pointedly at Mulder.  “I’d like to get the carrots, beets, and the rest of the lettuce in today.”

 

“Looks like it might rain,” he said, gazing out the window over the sink as he dried his hands on a blue-and-white towel.  “What’s today’s activity if it does?”

 

She wrapped the roast in several layers of foil.  “If it’s pouring I suppose we could sort the newest loads of stuff,” she said, inclining her head towards the pile of cloth and plastic bags stacked near the basement door.  This morning there had been more bags outside the gate, though no people.  “And remember, the rain will only help with planting as long as it’s not too heavy.”

 

Mulder rolled his eyes at him behind her back and William grinned.

 

“Or we could maybe play some cards or a board game,” he said.  “William, do you like games?”

 

“Yeah!  My folks and I used to play in a pinochle tournament during the winter, at the local VFW hall,” he said enthusiastically.  “Do you guys play pinochle?”

 

“I don’t even know what that is,” Mulder confessed.  “We played Spades, Hearts, that sort of thing.”

 

“I do, but I’ve never played it,” Scully said.  “How about teaching us?”

 

“Sure!”

 

As they followed her outside, leading the way with the roast, Mulder leaned down to mutter in William’s ear.  “Something tells me that we’ll be playing even if it doesn’t rain.  Good job, kid.”

 

As he basked in his father’s words William knew that he was home, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

**~ IV ~**

 

William had been with them for barely a month but it seemed like Mulder couldn’t remember a time that he wasn't around.

 

Now that spring was well on its way there was less time to play cards, although they usually managed a game or two in the evening if they weren’t too tired.  Mulder thought that it helped bond them into a genuine family.  William was not only a good player and teacher, but most importantly he knew how to be a gracious loser.  The more they got to know him, the more they loved their son for the person he was rather than who they wanted him to be.

 

One of the first things that William taught them was how to get the animals to behave when they came out of the barn in the morning.  He’d been aghast at the stampede, worried that some of the smaller ones would get trampled.  Several of the female goats—does--had given birth over the last few weeks and he insisted on helping to build a separate pen for them, with access to the inside on the side of the barn.

 

There weren’t enough stalls in the barn to put one animal in each, and it was too crowded to double or triple them up for the night.  Instead, William began getting up early with an old-fashioned windup alarm clock next to his hay bed and going down to put them in stalls until Mulder and Scully arrived.  They let the non-nursing goats out first, then the horses, then the impatient cows.  Though it wasn’t ideal, it was much more manageable until he had more time to work on it.

 

He began the actual training with the horses, as the Haflingers were quiet, study, intelligent animals.  William had fashioned simple rope halters for them since the small amount of tack they’d found in the barn and nearby shed was rotted past usability.  When they had a chance, they planned to make a trip to a country store about three miles away, hoping to find at least some halters or bridles.  In the meantime, he used the halters to quietly lead the horses out of the stall and into the yard, waiting until they settled down before letting them loose to graze.  It didn’t take more than a couple of days for the horses to figure out what he wanted and begin to behave accordingly.

 

The cows were a whole ‘nother story.  Though he was tall, William was thin. Not terribly skinny, but he still needed some feeding up with growing to do.  They found out quickly (and with a few bruises) that he couldn’t handle even a single rambunctious cow alone, so Mulder helped. 

 

It took a couple of weeks, but soon the cows were behaving enough that they could be led out of the barn two by two just with their halters, then tied for milking with no kicking up a ruckus.

 

William had also become close with the little scruffy brown terrier he named Buddy.  He’d found an old book of dog breeds among the stuff they had and identified him as a Cairn terrier, either purebred or so close that it didn’t matter.  Luckily all the male dogs on the place had been neutered, though they had no idea if either of the bitches were intact.  Scully kept an eye on them, concerned that coyotes or other feral dogs might come after them.

 

Though William had been around animals all his life, his parents hadn’t had any pet dogs, just a Corgi that helped herd the cows and lived in the barn.  Buddy became the canine friend he’d wanted since he was little, and they were inseparable.

 

Mulder found himself fascinated with the active, bouncy baby goats, and helped William build a few things for them to climb on in the pen.  One early May afternoon they took a break from working on the chicken coop and wandered over to the goat pen.  They leaned on the chest-high (on Mulder) chicken-wire fence and watched one in particular.  The little black and white spotted kid bounced off the stationary drum on its side, hopped up on the wooden platform, leaped over several of the does who were grazing on the thick spring grass, then jumped into the center of a large, half-rotted tractor tire.  Both father and son were laughing as they followed his progress.

 

“That’s the one Dana-mom named Prallen, isn’t it?” William said. 

 

“Yeah, it’s German for rabbit,” Mulder nodded.  “And he really does— _oh, shit!”_

 

They both looked up as a pair of dark, sleek, featureless aircraft whipped by low overhead, shaking the tallest trees to the west as they skimmed just barely above them.  Except for a distinct low hissing noise, they were almost soundless.  Without a look at each other, both ran for the house where Scully was butchering a yearling deer Mulder had shot that morning on the way from the treehouse.

 

They had told William their emergency plan and now that it was really happening he didn’t hesitate, but followed their lead.

 

As they ran the boy whistled for Buddy and Rosie, who he had trained to come at distinct whistles.  The other dogs responded to a different one.  Though no one wanted to lose any of the dogs, those were the two being trained to work around the farm, and also the fastest when it came to response time if they were needed. 

 

As they rounded the corner of the barn and the house came in sight, they saw that Scully was just coming out of the back door, still wearing the faded red and white apron she used in the kitchen. 

 

The three of them, plus the two dogs, ran for the back of the property.  They saw the cows and horses grazing in the distance along the far fenceline to the east.  If the house got bombed, Mulder thought, they should be far enough away to be safe.  Or so he hoped.

 

They reached the treehouse shortly and Mulder yanked the rope that dropped the ladder.  “Can I bring Buddy up?” William asked, sounding upset.

 

“You go up first and I’ll hand him up,” Mulder said, picking up the little dog.

 

“What about Rosie?”

 

“She can’t get up there, William, she stays down here and keeps guard,” Scully said as he quickly climbed the rope ladder and turned back for the dog.

 

Once they were in the treehouse Mulder yanked the ladder up and shoved the board into place.  It was even more cramped than usual with three people in it, and the only place to sit was on the bed.  He had a passing thought that it was a good thing Scully usually pulled the covers up over the sheets before they left, because William’s arrival hadn’t cooled their lovemaking at all especially since there was no room for him to sleep in here. 

 

Scully and William sat on one side of the bed, Mulder on the other.  They heard nothing outside except the wind in the trees and an occasional rustling in the undergrowth, as well as Buddy’s panting and their breathing.  William ~~l~~ ooked around curiously, having never been in the treehouse before.

 

“Did you hear them?” Mulder asked Scully in a low voice. “The aircraft, I mean.”

 

“No, I looked out the window and saw you guys running and then heard that weird hissing noise,” she murmured back.  “Did they circle around?”

 

“Not that we saw,” William said.  “Maybe they were just passing by on the way to somewhere else.”

 

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Scully sighed, ignoring the look that Mulder threw at her.  They’d had more than one philosophical discussion since the invasion begun and had eventually agreed to disagree. 

 

“How long do we wait?” the boy asked as Buddy jumped into his lap and he wrapped his arms around the little dog.

 

“I dunno.  An hour?”

 

"I don't hear anything," Scully objected, "and this isn't the first time we've seen them fly over. I've got things to do, Mulder."

 

“Yeah, well, so do we,” he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.  “How long do you think we should wait?”

 

“Half an hour?  Fifteen minutes? Actually, I think if they were going to bomb or capture us they’d have done it by now,” she said in a tense voice.  Then she glanced over at William, who sat stiffly next to her holding the little brown dog in his arms.  She took a deep breath.  “Honestly, Mulder, do you think staying here is safer?”

 

In the dim light he saw her expression, which was no longer pinched and annoyed.  “Again, I don’t know.  But I guess you’re right, we may as well go back to work since they’re not tearing down our tree to get to us.”

 

Heaving a sigh, she put a hand on William’s shoulder as they rose and he smiled back at her wanly. 

 

Mulder and Scully were on the ground and William about to hand Buddy down when a deafening explosion sounded, shaking the ground, tree, and house for several seconds.  “Oh shit!” she cried as the rumbles faded away.  Mulder held onto the trunk of the tree while Scully had grabbed his arm to steady herself.

 

William had dropped Buddy when the treehouse shook and now skimmed down the ladder to go to the little dog, who fell hard on the ground but now stood up, shaking himself. 

 

“Bomb nearby, I’m guessing,” Mulder said as Scully went to where William was kneeling to check Buddy.  “They were looking for someone.”

 

“Is he okay, William?”  Scully asked, crouching next to them.

 

“Yeah, just a little stunned I think,” he said as she ran her hands over the dog’s tough little body.  He didn’t yelp or move away.  “I feel horrible that I dropped him.”

 

“I don’t think that was us, but it was nearby,” Mulder said.  “We’d better go check it out.”

 

William picked up Buddy, who licked his face enthusiastically, and followed his parents out of the forest.  A gray haze outside drifted across the fields, partially obscuring the view, and a strange acrid smell assaulted their noses.  They moved carefully out of the trees, Rosie staying next to them and whining softly as she sniffed the air, looking around cautiously as they reached the field.

 

“Oh my God.”  Scully was the first to get an idea of where the drifting smoke was coming from, though they had to walk out into the field to get a clear view as the house was in the way.

 

A huge pillar of black and gray smoke rose from somewhere behind the fenced field across the dirt road that went past their house.  Mulder couldn’t remember if there had been buildings or anything beyond it; he’d paid little attention other than to have occasionally seen a farmer on a tractor mowing or baling or whatever the hell they did before the invasion.

 

“Do… do you think that was… people?” William said slowly, still clutching Buddy to his narrow chest. 

 

“I’m afraid so.  As far as we know, that’s all they bomb,” Mulder said gloomily.  “There must have been—“

 

His words trailed off as they saw several dark figures moving through the drifting smoke. They were far enough away that it was impossible to make out if they were human or invader.  All three were tense and ready to bolt but then several of the farm dogs ran past, barking.  Rosie cocked her head, then took off after them despite Mulder calling her back.

 

Invaders or not, Mulder and Scully followed the dogs as William put Buddy down.  By the time they reached the gate they could see that there were three humans staggering towards them. 

 

“Too many,” Mulder said, shaking his head as he unlatched the gate.  “See if anyone’s hurt and I’ll take the others down the road.”

 

A tall woman being held up by a smaller man cried “Help us!" as soon as they reached the fence on the other side of the road.

 

“Is anyone hurt?” Scully called, slowing as she reached them. 

 

“My sister, she fell and hurt her leg,” the smaller man yelled.  Both of them wore mismatched, badly fitting clothes, and the woman’s blonde hair was singed down to her skull on one side.

 

“Go with her, she’s a doctor, the others come with me.” Mulder, having reached the fence, helped the two over.  “The invaders see more than four or five of us together we’ll get bombed too.”

 

The third person, an overweight, bearded man in overalls and a threadbare, stained gray sweat jacket, reached them last.  “Them bastards killed them all,” he half-sobbed, half panted.  “There was at least a dozen kids in our group.”

 

“Goddammit!” Scully took the weight of the taller woman and began supporting her across the road as the smaller man backed away.  Though determined and knowing how to support the weight of a larger person, she was unable to keep her steady on one leg and they both almost overbalanced and fell.  “William, give me a hand.”

 

He did as told, slipping under the woman’s other arm and helping his mother half-carry her towards their gate, where the dogs still barked.

 

Mulder grabbed the other two men, each by an arm.  “You guys come with me.  We’ve got to get out of here fast.”

 

“I’m done in,” the fat man said, his legs collapsing.  “Can’t go no farther.”

 

“You’re not getting my family killed because you’re out of shape,” Mulder snapped, yanking at his arm so hard that the man pitched forward onto his knees.  “Get the fuck up and come on!”

 

Grumbling, the heavyset man stood and began stumping along behind Mulder as he led them along the side of the dirt road, the sun shining through the dissipating tendrils of wispy gray smoke.  He glanced back to see that Scully and William already had the woman to the porch and were slowly going up the steps.

 

“We’ve got a shelter down there, we think that half a mile is enough distance so that they don’t consider us together,” he explained, letting go of the other man’s arm.  “How many people did you guys have in one place?”

 

“I dunno, we found a bunch of kids wandering around out in the woods and took ‘em in,” the smaller man said.  “They said they escaped from some alien slave enclosure in Richmond a few days back.”

 

“Don’t you people know that you can’t have more than five people in one place, or the invaders capture or bomb you?” Mulder turned to find the heavyset man ten feet or so back.   “Come on, keep up, you wanna get killed?  They could still be nearby.”

 

“Fuckin’ lay offa me, asshole, I done had enough!” The other man stopped suddenly, then thumped to the ground on his hefty rear end.  Brown road dust puffed up around him and he coughed as he panted.  “I gotta rest.”

 

Mulder looked around, seeing that they were less than a hundred yards from the farm.  “Not good enough,” he said grimly, then pulled a large handgun, a M1911A1 he’d found in an abandoned house, from beneath his shirt.  “Either move or I’ll kill you here and now.”

 

The smaller man backed away, wide-eyed.  “What the hell!”

 

“I’ve got no problem putting a bullet through your head.” Mulder knew he couldn’t shoot another person in cold blood but hoped he came across as someone who would.  “I’m not going to let you get the rest of us killed.”

 

The blood drained from the fat man’s face and half-bald head.  “Jesus fucking Christ, all right, okay, hang on,” he huffed, getting up again.  Mulder waited until he passed by then fell in behind them both, occasionally prodding with the gun.

 

“Who the fuck died and make you boss?” The fat man wheezed as he walked. 

 

“Well for one thing I was an FBI agent and another, I know how to survive and keep my family safe,” Mulder said coldly.  “What in the _hell_ were you people thinking?”

 

“The kids said they’d been together for days,” the smaller man spoke up.  “There was, I dunno, ten-twelve of them.  We didn’t think a few more people would be a problem.”

 

Mulder spoke through gritted teeth as they marched along.  “I don’t know how the invaders pick who to bomb or capture, whether it’s by number or maybe heat signature using a sensor of some type, but everyone we’ve talked to knows about it.  Why did you think it didn’t apply to you?  How old were the kids?”

 

“The leader said they was all about thirteen, fourteen,” the fat man said.  “Not real big kids, either.  We found ‘em a couple days ago, dunno why they attacked us now.”

 

“Well, regardless, we’re going to stay here until I hear from my wife,” Mulder said.  Though they had never actually tied the knot, they had wordlessly agreed to call each other as such simply to avoid confusion.  “She’ll take good care of… who’s the woman?”

 

“My sister Patty,” the smaller man said.  “By the way, I’m Stan Mosley and this’s Lee, uh, what is your last name?”

 

“Seligman,” Lee grumbled.

 

“I’m Fox Mulder, I go by just Mulder.” He glanced back again to see that the house was out of view.  When he turned back he saw that the heavyset man, Lee, was glaring at him.  He half-wished the bastard would make a go for the gun so he could whomp him with it.  But that would just cause more whining, he thought tiredly.  “Where are you folks from?”

 

“I had a farm outside Sumerduck,” Lee said, his worn workboots scuffing up even more dust as he slowed.  Mulder didn’t say anything since they were nearly to the shelter.  “Stayed there ‘til the summer after the invasion, when everyone I saw was sick or dyin’ and then I headed for the hills.  Met up with these two a few months back and we was doin’ ok.”

 

“We heard tell there was a tradin’ post of sorts where we could get news out this way so that’s what we was lookin’ for,” Stan said.  “Then we ran into the kids, and we was just lucky that the three of us had moved away from the group to talk about what we was gonna do with ‘em when the bomb hit.  Threw us all about five, ten feet.”

 

They trooped around a bend in the road and Mulder stopped.  “We’re here,” he said, gesturing with the gun to a barely visible track to their left in a long, narrow, grassy field.  “Just head up there, you’ll see it.”

 

He tucked the gun away, but this time in the front of his pants instead of the back, as they walked single-file up the narrow path.  A few yards later they went through a screen of bushes.  Just beyond them was a small, ramshackle log cabin sitting in a small field of dry brown weeds, surrounded on three sides by dense forest.  It looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades, decrepit and moss-covered.

 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Lee grumbled, glancing back at Mulder who brought up the rear. 

 

“Shut up until you get inside—go around to the back door, Stan,” he directed.  “Just follow the track.”

 

The back porch was small and sagging, with a broken one-board step and no roof on top of the peeling, leaning posts.  But as soon as they stepped through the sturdy wooden door the cabin was transformed from a ramshackle wreck to a sturdy, comfortable, well-kept home.  It was well-lit from a pair of overhead skylights that were tucked between the low, peeled-log beams that held up the roof on either side of the peak.  The windows were covered with grime and cobwebs so that no one could see in.

 

“Whoa!” Stan said, wandering around the single room.  Two of the walls were covered with handmade wooden shelves, packed with survival gear, canned food, and clothing.  “Never woulda guessed from how it looks from the outside.”

 

“That’s the point,” Mulder said, closing the door and leaning back against it.  “I think we might have been the ‘trading post’ you guys heard about, but we’re more of a waystation.  Our house and this place hold things for people that need them, plus temporary shelter. And my wife’s a doctor.”

 

Lee thumped down into one of the chairs at the old but clean 1950s era red-speckled vinyl dining room table tucked into one corner of the kitchen area.  “I wouldn’t mind livin’ here.”

 

Why was there always one in the bunch? Mulder wondered.  It seemed like every group that came through had a troublemaker or asshole of some type.  “It’s not a permanent home,” he explained, going into the larger living room area and perching on the edge of a frayed but solid plaid ottoman that matched the couch and loveseat under the dirty front windows.   “It’s just a… stop, a waystation, until you can—“

 

“You know, one weird thing I can’t forget about is that one of the kids had a bandage on his arm, and instead of red, it looked like he had green blood under it.” Stan spoke out of the blue from where he was standing in front of a bank of shelves on the other side of the room, looking through cans of soup. 

 

Mulder’s eyes widened at the implication, and he now thought he knew what had happened.  It wasn’t urgent to let Scully and William know, but it was a good tidbit to add to their knowledge of what the invaders were doing. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  

~ V ~

 

“So, they’re using disguised aliens, or alien/human hybrids, to find people?” Scully said.  She was packing a large gym bag full of clothes for Patty, Stan, and Lee, who were going to stay at the shelter until the other woman could walk. William stood beside her, sorting clothes into size piles, with Buddy and Rosie curled under the table.  Patty was asleep on the living room couch, having passed out after Scully finished bandaging her wrenched knee, trimmed her hair short to match the singed area, and cleaned her minor facial burns.  She’d given her a shot of antibiotic just to be on the safe side, though she was concerned with how low their drug supplies were getting.

 

“That’s what Mulder-dad said.  Stan told him that one of the kids had a bandage on and the stains on it were green, not red.  It makes sense according to him.”

 

“It does to me too.  We know that they’ve been working on human-alien hybrids since the 1960s, and that they succeeded with one but had a lot of failures.”  She was remembering Cassandra Spender, the boxcar that Mulder found out in the desert, and her experience at the Hansen's Disease Research Facility among other incidents.  “It’s very possible they’re sacrificing the failures to find more people.  I doubt they’re of much use, otherwise.”

 

William shuddered.  “That’s awful.”

 

“ _They’re_ awful,” Scully agreed, her nostrils flaring.  “We aren’t sure what they’re doing with the humans they capture.  Most likely used as vessels for the next generation, but we’ve heard rumors that they use humans as slave labor, too.  Still, we don’t really know.”  They had told William the story of Scully’s bee sting and abduction, and what Mulder  saw in the giant spaceship in Antarctica.  (He had grinned at his dad’s forlorn expression when Mulder sighed, “It should have been our first kiss.”)

 

“Mulder-dad also said that the kids told the adults they’d escaped from a slave camp, or something like that,” he added, folding an empty paper sack and setting it on the table next to the duffel bag.  “That’s the last of the clothes.”

 

Scully picked out two more shirts, added them to the duffel, then zipped it shut.  “I think this is plenty.  Now, you’re sure that Patty can ride behind you on one of the horses?”

 

“She says she’s been riding since she was a kid, and so have I.  And the horses are really well-behaved.”

 

Scully bit her lip so she wouldn’t scold him again.  Patty wanted to stay at the shelter with her brother instead of at the house.  While they were trying to figure out how they’d get her down there, William had dropped the bombshell that he’d been riding the horses for a couple of weeks.  When she was done admonishing him, Scully had to agree that it was the perfect solution.

 

She watched him do a riding demonstration and had to admit that it was clear he knew what he was doing.  If the other woman could stay on with a sprained knee, it was the best solution to get her back to the shelter.  Patty had said that she might be able to ride the other horse by herself, but Scully didn’t even consider it.  Not just because of her injury, but because she didn’t want to risk having one of the horses stolen just when they’d found a use for them.  Mulder’s old credo of “trust no one” took on a whole new meaning these days.

 

“Are you hungry, William?”

 

“Yeah, I guess we didn’t have lunch,” he said, going to the sink to wash his hands in the cold pump water.  Both of his moms insisted he wash them before eating, and it was second nature now.  “Kinda forgot about it.”

 

“I’ll make a few extra sandwiches to take down to your dad and the others. I think there’s enough turkey left.” Shepulled a large plastic bag of fry bread from the old, white-enamel breadbox on the counter next to the sink.  William had taught them to make fry bread, which was much easier and more dependable than the yeast loaves she baked in the ground oven, which had about a fifty-fifty chance of coming out edible.  His mother had made fry bread as a snack with sugar added to the flour and water mixture and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, but it could also be had without the sweetening and used for sandwiches.  “Wish I had time to make some soup, but I’ve still got to finish cutting up that damn deer.”

 

He went downstairs and got what was left of the fire-roasted wild turkey carcass and bowl of homemade mayonnaise out of cold storage without being asked.  As Scully was assembling the sandwiches she couldn’t help but think how normal this seemed, making lunch for her son and his father, despite the circumstances.  Though they in no way stuck to traditional gender roles, very often that was how it ended up.

 

She woke Patty to have lunch, and then they got one of the horses ready to go.  Though they had never officially named them, William had begun to call them Ping and Pong which seemed to work just fine since it was difficult to tell them apart.  They were both a deep golden-orange color with pale flaxen manes and tails, and only their face markings were different.  Both were geldings, neutered males, so that wasn’t a help. 

 

When they were ready to go, William whistled for Rosie and Buddy.  Both came trotting around the side of the house; they had become inseparable over the last few weeks.  When they got close Scully threw a bright green tennis ball to the Shepherd, who caught it mid-air in a flying leap and ran to her.

 

“Wow, she’s really good, too bad there aren’t disc dog competitions still around,” Patty said, leaning on a rusty old crutch at the base of the front steps.  They had devised a rough mounting block for her out of old milk crates and a kitchen chair, which the horse stood next to.  When the dog stopped and paused with the ball in her mouth, she added, “Why’s she just standing there?”

 

“We send her ahead to the shelter when one of us is coming.”  Scully watched as William bounced up onto the back of the small, stout horse and settled himself.  Then she picked up Buddy and handed him to the boy; since the dog’s stubby legs couldn’t keep up with the horse at anything faster than a walk, William had taught him to ride on his lap.  Patty would sit behind them with the stuffed gym bag.  “They’ll drop you off and leave so there aren’t too many people there at once.”

 

“Oh.  Makes sense, I guess.”

 

“Okay, Rosie, go find Mulder!  Find Mulder, girl!”

 

The large black and tan German Shepherd turned and ran down the driveway without hesitation, leaping the fence like a gazelle.  She knew her job, and loved it.  When Rosie took the ball to Mulder, he would praise and play with her.  Then she got to come back and be with all of her people. 

 

*          *          *

 

Mulder looked up from the book he was reading when Lee went over and picked up one of the shotguns leaning against the cold fireplace, then went to the front door, opening it slowly.  “What’re you doing?  Close that door!” he snapped.

 

“Saw sumpthin’ running around out there.  Big, black, probably a wolf. I’m gonna—“

 

Mulder moved faster than he had in at least twenty years.  Just as the heavyset man pulled the trigger he brought his clenched fists up beneath the barrel of the gun, knocking it upwards.  Splinters and pieces of wood, still smoking, rained down around them from what was left of the rickety front porch roof.  “That’s my fucking dog, you goddamned idiot!  You almost killed her!”

 

Rosie crouched in the weedy front yard just a short distance from the porch, hunkered down with her ears flattened back against her skull and brushy tail between her legs.  She still had the bright green tennis ball in her mouth. 

 

“Get back in there,” Mulder growled, grabbing the gun and shoving the other man away.  “Rosie!  C’mere, girl, it’s okay.”

 

The big ears popped up, tail beginning to wag as she bounded over to Mulder, letting him take the tennis ball before leading him into the cabin.  “Number one, we don’t use that door so the place looks abandoned,” he said angrily as he closed the panel.  “Number two, _say something_ before just reacting.  I knew she’d be coming before—“

 

“All right, all right, I got it,” Lee grumbled as he stomped off to his previous seat in the kitchen area.  “Just trying to keep ever’body safe.”

 

 _Safe my ass,_ Mulder thought as he squeezed the tennis ball.  It popped halfway open, having been neatly sawed, and extracted a tightly folded piece of paper.

 

_Mulder,_

_William is riding back with Patty on one of the horses.  Tell them she needs to rest for at least a week before she starts walking again.  Bring back some foil._

_Love, D_

 

He sighed with relief as he walked over and tossed the note into the cold fireplace, relaying the message to Stan about his sister.  Then his eye was caught by a pair of bright, hopeful brown eyes.  “Rosie?  Ready for your reward, big girl?”

 

Tail wagging and a low yip, nose pointing towards the back door, was his answer.

 

Without saying anything else to the other two men, Mulder took the big dog out back and played ball with her until he heard William’s voice calling him from the other side of the cabin a short time later.

 

Together they got Patty down from the horse and settled on the couch.  After handing out the clothes and sandwiches, Mulder laid out the ground rules (basically, don’t take more than you need, chop firewood for your keep, be gone in seven days or you’ll be forcibly evicted) and then he and William and Rosie left.

 

“You can ride with me on Ping if you don’t want to walk,” William said as they started down the rutted trail towards the road walking side by side.  “Ask Dana-mom, I’m a good rider.”

 

“You may be, but I’ve never been on a horse in my life and I’m not starting now.” Mulder snorted, swinging the plastic sack that held two rolls of tinfoil from the shelter’s stores.  “Especially without a saddle.  Besides, wouldn’t my feet drag on the ground?”

 

“Aw, he’s not that short,” William said, grinning, but didn’t argue.  He was leading the horse by its rope halter, Rosie and Buddy ranging ahead and sniffing around.  Mulder thought it still seemed odd that there was no traffic at all on this long empty road; though it had never been busy, there was a freeway entrance five miles to the north so it had once carried a fair amount of traffic. 

 

“What were you doing the day the invaders came?” William said in a quiet voice unlike his usual energetic tone. “How did it happen?  How did you know what it was?”

 

Mulder shook his head.  “Well, probably just like you, the power went out—including everything electronic, cars, all that.  We didn’t know what it was for sure but we had an idea, especially given the date.”

 

They had already told the boy everything they knew about the invasion, including the fact that they had thought they’d stopped it.  Now he told the story of their survival in the immediate aftermath, and how they’d unintentionally become a waystation for other survivors.

 

They walked along in silence for a while after he finished.  The slow, hollow thudding of the horse’s unshod hooves on the hard-packed dirt, greenery rustling in the light breeze, and birdsong from the surrounding fields and forest were the only sounds.  “When did you first see them?” the boy finally asked.

 

“Well, no one’s actually seen the invaders that we know of,” Mulder said, then turned to look at him.  “Have they?  Have you heard anything like that?”

 

They had agreed not to tell their son about Mulder’s alien abduction, since they didn’t know with certainly that these were the same ones.  Besides, all that Mulder clearly remembered was pain; he had never seen who or what had abducted and tortured him.

 

William shook his dark head, shaggy hair waving.  He needed a haircut, Mulder realized.  “Just the aircraft that blow people up.”

 

“Same here.”  Mulder agreed. “But we’ve heard reports of people being captured and disappearing, though I don’t know how or with what.” Then, cautiously,  “Do you want to talk about what happened to you, and your parents?”

 

As Mulder had suspected—and hoped—the question made the dam break. 


	6. Chapter 6

  ** _~ VI ~_**

 

William began talking slowly, but soon gained speed.

 

“Like I told you, I started getting these funny feelings, which’re hard to explain, before anything even happened.”

 

“How long before?” Mulder asked.

 

“Couple of weeks, I think.  I was having trouble concentrating in school and the counselor even asked me if I was doing drugs.” William snorted.  “Like I’d waste myself on that crap.  Anyway, I woke up with nightmares in the middle of the night on December 24 and saw that my alarm clock wasn’t working, and found that none of the lights were either.  The power was out.”

 

“First thing we noticed too,” Mulder agreed when the boy’s words paused.  “Thank God we had an old, non-electronic pickup that someone had left in the shed which got us to town.  It was a stick-shift 1983 Ford Ranger, rusted all to hell and back, but it ran when the newer cars wouldn’t.  Eventually the transmission went and we couldn’t fix it.”

 

“We had an ancient three-speed Jeep CJ-5 that we used around the farm. It worked great until we couldn’t find any more gas.” The boy kicked a largish rock that bounced ahead, leaving puffs of dirt in its bounding wake.  The dogs looked back briefly, then continued to wander on a short distance ahead.  “While it was still running, before we knew what was really going on, I kept telling my parents that we needed to leave, at least for a while.  But they wouldn’t listen.  I even tried to get just my mom to go to the cabin, but she wouldn’t leave us.  And my dad wouldn’t leave the farm.”

 

Mulder sighed.  “I guess I can understand that.  I’d hate to leave our farm right now, with the animals and travelers counting on us.  Though if you said it was dangerous and we had to leave, we’d listen to you.”

 

They walked along in silence for a few moments and Mulder was just about to ask him more questions when William began talking again.

 

“Then we started hearing stuff about those weird planes, or UFOs, or whatever they are, bombing towns and cities.  We didn’t see one for months, though.  We were pretty remote.  It was about half an hour into town, longer once the Jeep died and we had to use the horses.  The school bus never did come back, and from what my dad said, they suspended all schools and a lot of jobs, too, when the power went out even before we knew what was really going on.”

 

Mulder hadn’t thought about schools.  What had it been like for children trapped when the buses or their parents’ cars  couldn’t pick them up?  Though the EMP—or whatever it was—had hit during the night where they were, he didn’t assume that it had happened for everyone on the planet at the same time.  Had people been caught in elevators, at the CN Tower, on the Seattle Space Needle, even the St. Louis Arch, when the power went out?

 

He was glad when William continued and distracted him from those thoughts.  “Then everybody started getting sick.  Dad wouldn’t let me and Mom go into town with him by then, he said it was too dangerous.  But he kept going back for news and supplies using our good two-wheeled cart with one horse.  I knew something was really wrong then since he paid a lot for that cart and took good care of it because we won lots at shows with it.”

 

“What kind of horses did you have, William?” Mulder asked from simple curiosity, though he was trying to encourage the boy to talk about what was bothering him since it seemed like he was finally ready. 

 

“We had Belgian draft horses.  They look kinda like the Haflingers, same color, but lots bigger and with longer legs and not so much hair.  My dad said they were the best pulling horses in the world.  We had an eight-horse hitch with a big fancy show wagon, you know, like the Budweiser Clydesdales, and a couple of other show carriages as well as a plow that we used both in competition and around the farm.” The boy sighed.  “Not long after my folks died, I let the animals loose in the fields cause I couldn’t take care of all of them by myself.  When I left I took one of the horses with me, but she spooked and ran off just a few days after I started out.”

 

“So you walked all the way here?” Mulder said with some surprise.  Since William often mentioned the horses he’d grown up with, he had assumed that the boy rode one most of the way. 

 

“Not all the way.  Some people still had working cars. I even saw one guy riding a cow for cryin’ out loud.  Most folks I ran into are using horses, though.   I haven’t heard of anyone who got bombed for having a lot of animals. Just a lot of people.”

 

“Yeah, same here. Didn’t you say before that your parents died from the invaders’ disease?” Mulder asked carefully.  He suspected that William wanted to talk about that, though if he sidestepped the question he wouldn’t push it.

 

“Yeah, my dad came down with it first, but he and my mom died just hours apart.”  The horse snorted and shook his head, thick mane flopping, and William stroked his shoulder reassuringly. “I was sure I’d get it too. Never did, though. They kept telling me to leave after they got sick but I wouldn’t.”

 

Mulder hesitated, then said, “We think you got immunity from us.  Both your Dana-mom and I were exposed to the original virus, and survived.  Since we didn’t get sick it’s obvious we’re immune, and that’s probably why you are too.”

 

“Oh. Right, you said that she was trapped in the alien ship and you injected her with the antidote.  Makes sense. ” 

 

Mulder nodded, switching the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other.  They were still some distance from the farm, and he wanted to keep the boy talking.  “So what did you do after they… passed?”

 

“Well, they died in their upstairs bed and I didn’t think I could drag them both downstairs, so I just threw the covers over them and closed the door.”  William sighed yet again.  It was a very sad sound coming from someone so young.  “Some people might think it was wrong, but I knew they wouldn’t mind.”

 

“I think you did what you felt was right,” Mulder assured him.  “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

 

William nodded.  “After that, I slept downstairs on the couch with all the doors and windows locked, though we’d never locked them before,” the boy said, glancing over at him.  “I didn’t get any more of those weird flashes for a long time, but when our neighbor Frank started coming over all the time I knew I had to leave even without my warning feelings.”

 

“What was wrong with him?” Mulder asked.

 

“Well he’d had a kind of large family, at least five little kids, but not long after we started hearing that they were bombing groups of people, they all disappeared but him.” He frowned, looking straight ahead.  “He told everybody that they’d all gone to her mom’s or some such bull, but my dad suspected that he’d probably killed them, cause he always seemed to hate them.  He said that Frank beat his wife and ignored his kids, mostly.”

 

“You wonder why people like that have families,” Mulder grumbled. 

 

“I know, right? Anyway, he came by one day not long after my folks died and said I should come stay with him, that the farm was too much for me to handle.  I told him that my dad’s brother was still alive and coming back, and then he stayed away for a while.  But the next time he came over he said he knew I didn’t have an uncle staying with me, and that he’d be back to pick me up the next day so I should get all my stuff ready.”  William shuddered.  “I hated the way he looked at me.  No grownup man should look at a kid like he’s an adult woman.”

 

“Ugh,” Mulder said clearly.  Thank goodness the boy had the good sense to know a pervert when he was confronted by one.  And it was pretty obvious why this Frank had had a family he didn’t seem to care about.  He didn’t even want to consider that William’s father had probably been right.

 

“I mean, I know about gay people, and they’re okay, but this guy, he was just a freak,” William said.  “My mom’s hairdressers were gay, and really nice guys.  Everybody in town was cool with them.  But Frank wasn’t like them.”

 

“No, it doesn’t sound like it.  Frank was probably a pedophile, an adult who, uh, goes after kids in completely inappropriate ways,” Mulder explained in case William wasn’t familiar with the word.  “I’m glad you got away from him.”

 

“Nobody else I ran into was that bad, but there are some _serious_ freaks wandering around out there,” he said with open bemusement.  “I stayed a few days with one guy who was convinced he was communicating with the invading aliens and spent all night outside talking, singing, even dancing at the sky.  But at least he gave me breakfast before he went to bed in the morning.”

 

Mulder chuckled since the boy was clearly amused.  “So who else did you stay with?”

 

“When it was warm, during the summer, I mostly stayed by myself and avoided other people.  I just kept moving east, staying near the freeways when I could ‘cause it was easier to walk, hiding when I saw or heard anything.  But when it got cold I knew I could die of hypothermy, so I found places to stay.  Not always with other people, once just in an abandoned house that had a fireplace, but I moved on every chance I got, when the weather cleared enough.”

 

“Too bad your Spidey-sense didn’t work both ways or we’d have come to meet you,” Mulder said. He decided not to correct the boy on hypothermia; it was close enough and he wanted him to keep talking.  It was clearly cathartic. 

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have minded missing out on those refugee camps,” he said.  “They found me and insisted I go back with them even though I told them I was on my way to stay with relatives.  The first one made me stay in a tent with a bunch of other kids, but I snuck out when I knew the invaders were coming.  The other one assigned me to a family, who didn’t seem to like me much, so it was no trouble to get away when I had to.”

 

“Did you try, uh, try to warn them?” Mulder said, hoping the question wouldn’t upset him too much.  But if that was one of the things bothering him, it would help to get it off his back.

 

“Oh yeah.  Everybody treated me like I was as nuts as the alien-talking guy.  Goddamn aliens invading Earth and they think I’m bugshit because I can sense them.” William shook his head, clearly disgusted. 

 

“I was wondering, how is it that you didn’t feel the attack this morning coming?” Mulder said in a carefully non-accusing voice.  Though he really wasn’t comfortable with a fourteen-year-old swearing like a career sailor, he also knew that this wasn’t the time to say something about it. 

 

“I was thinkin’ about that too, and probably because _we_ weren’t in danger,” he said thoughtfully.  “The invaders were after others. Even though they were close it wasn’t enough for us to get hurt.  But if they do come after us, I’m sure I’ll know about it in plenty of time.”

 

“Must’ve been bad knowing all those people died when you tried to warn them,” Mulder carefully probed.  “If they’d just listened to you—“

 

“Yeah!  Nobody _listened_ to me!  I’m not stupid, or crazy, just ‘cause I’m a kid!” William stopped and glared at Mulder angrily, but his father saw the shine of unshed tears in his wide blue Scully eyes.  “I kept telling ‘em, separate into smaller groups, but they blew me off—“

 

The horse, who had stopped and was standing patiently next to the boy, swung its head around and nudged his side with its soft nose.  William turned and threw his arms around the horse’s neck, burying his face in the thick flaxen mane.  The gelding hung his head over the boy’s shoulder, snorting softly and lipping gently at the back of his shirt. 

 

William’s narrow shoulders shook, but no sound issued from him.  Mulder gently laid a hand on his back although he really wanted to hug him.  Within moments Buddy the terrier came running back, and jumped up against the boy’s jeaned legs, looking at him and whining. 

 

“Aw, you guys,” William sniffled, leaning down to pet the dog then, to Mulder’s surprise, turned and threw his arms around him.  “Thanks,” he mumbled against his shoulder, and his father held him a little closer. 

 

“Anytime, son.  Anytime.”


	7. Chapter 7

**~ VII ~**

 

 

“Are you sure, Scully?”

 

“I’ve checked the supplies three times, Mulder.  No doubt about it.  I’m completely out or very close.”

 

Mulder looked down at the piece of yellowed graph paper in his hand.  Scully had found an old architectural sketchbook in the attic and used its gridded pages to catalog all of their supplies.  This page had two columns titled Pill or Liquid at the top, with a dozen or more medications listed on the left.  Over half of them had red checkmarks, meaning they were out or so low that they would only last for one or two more patients.  “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

 

She shook her head, long auburn braid swinging back and forth against her shoulder blades.  A few wisps of hair had escaped and she brushed them out of her face as she replied.  “The question is, should we take William with us or leave him here to watch the farm?”

 

Mulder sighed.  They were sitting at the kitchen table, the breakfast dishes still in front of them.  William had gone out to work with the horses, who he was training to pull a small metal cart they’d recently found at a neighboring farm, along with a harness that fit the Haflingers fine with some adjustment.  “I really hate to leave him behind, but…”

 

Scully nodded, meeting his shadowed hazel eyes which had a brownish tint this morning.  As always, their unspoken communication worked perfectly.  “Too bad those three finally left the cabin.  They could have stayed here for us.”

 

“That Lee asshole?  Did you see how much he took?  I wouldn’t have left him here,” Mulder said angrily.  “We’d have come back to an empty house. Only the skinny little guy did anything, and he barely chopped enough wood to cover what they used.”

 

Scully held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay.  So how are we going to tell him?”

 

“Tell who what?”

 

They both looked up to see William open the screen door and step inside the kitchen, Buddy scampering in as well.  Scully suddenly saw how much he’d grown and filled out in the few months he’d been with them; no longer was he a beanpole.  Though tall, his shoulders had broadened, his arms ropy with corded muscle, and she thought she could see the faint shadow of a beard on his jaw.  She had recently trimmed his and Mulder’s hair and they looked even more alike, especially since the older man had shaved for the summer. 

 

One thing they’d agreed on, and stuck to, was being honest with their son.  William had come to them with full trust, and they returned it.

 

Scully got up and began gathering the dishes, though Mulder usually cleared the table while she cleaned the rest of the kitchen.  It was an understood signal that it was his turn to talk.  He rested his forearms on the old Formica tabletop and looked up at the boy.

 

“Dana-mom and I have to make a trip into the city. We need books on some things we don’t know how to do, but most of all we’re almost out of some really important drugs.  We’ve cleaned out every store or library outside of the city and that’s the only place where there’s anything left.”

 

“I used up the last of the tetracycline on that gangrene case last week,” Scully said over her shoulder from where she stood at the sink rinsing dishes under the pump.  “And we’re almost out of all other antibiotics except the sulfa compounds.  Those make many people sick, though they work particularly good on bacterial infections.”

 

“And you want _me_ to stay behind?” William scowled.  “That’s crazy!  For one, I don’t want to be separated from you and for second, you can use me.  I know a lot of—“

 

Mulder held up a hand.  “William, wait.  Someone has to stay here and take care of the animals.”

 

“First thing I think of is that if you guys left and never came back, not only wouldn’t I know what happened to you, but I’d lose a second set of parents,” he glowered, crossing his arms over his chest.  “I’d rather die with you than go on never knowing.”

 

Scully and Mulder exchanged a meaningful glance, then he said, “And who would watch the animals?  We can’t just leave them on their own, especially the dogs and penned goats.”

 

“I need books on canning, maple syrup tapping, and making cheese, among other things.” Scully left the rinsed dishes in the sink and turned to the boy, wiping her hands on an old, stained piece of towel.  “We’ve been to the Richmond library and closest pharmacy once before so we know where they are. We can sneak in and out fast and quiet.”

 

“I’m not staying here,” William yelled, clearly furious.  “If you try and leave I’ll just follow you.  I used to hunt mulies and elk with my dad, and I know how to track.  Go ahead, try it.”  He turned and stomped out the back door with Buddy, whistling for the other dogs and then running off into the back fields with the whole pack gamboling around him.

 

“That went well,” Mulder said sarcastically then stood, his chair pushing back with a grating scrape.  “Now what?”

 

Scully leaned back against the sink, holding the towel in both hands in front of her.  “He _is_ a teenager, though it’s hard to remember when he’s so responsible and trustworthy,” she said.  “I think he has a point, though.  I’d really rather not be separated from him eith--”

 

“Well then what the hell are we going to do about the animals?” Mulder interrupted, clearly frustrated.  He crossed his arms over his t-shirt-covered broad chest and she couldn’t help noticing both his bulging biceps and the firm slabs of his pectorals.  Working around the farm from dawn to dusk was giving them all muscle definition, and she liked Mulder’s new physique very much.  But it wasn’t going to distract her from this argument.

 

She glared over at him, putting the towel on the counter beside the sink with perhaps a bit more force than was needed. There was little she hated more than being interrupted.  “I have an idea, if you’d let me finish,” she snapped.  “We get at least three or four people passing through every week or so.  Why don’t we ask one or two of them?”

 

Mulder scowled back at her. “People we don’t know?”

 

“Or we can pass word along for someone we do know, if they’re in the area,” she countered with asperity.  “We don’t have to leave today, we can wait a few days.”

 

“Okay, we’ll try it.  _If_ we can get someone trustworthy in the next five days or so to stay while we’re gone, we’ll take William.  But if not, we’ve got to go on our own.”

 

“Let’s see if we can get him to agree to that,” she said, then walked over to Mulder and reached up to put her hands on his biceps, running her fingers over the bulge of hard muscle.  “And I think that maybe this evening you and I can make up for this little fight in the best way possible.”

 

“That’s a deal.” Mulder’s annoyed frown disappeared, and he flexed his arms in the classic bodybuilder’s stance, then dropped them gently to her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her.  It went on for, perhaps, longer than it should have, but neither of them cared.

 

*          *          *

 

 Scully found William in his “bedroom,” a corner of the hayloft not far from the ladder that he’d portioned off with bales stacked just taller than his head.  She knocked and called from the bottom of the ladder, being cognizant of a teenager’s need for privacy.  

 

“Come on up,” he called in a flat, toneless voice.  That told her a lot of what she needed to know so, bracing herself for his attitude, Scully climbed up and went over to his space.    

 

William was sitting at his desk, a small pasteboard job they’d found on one of their scavenging runs and lifted up with the block and tackle used to move bales of hay to the loft.  Buddy was curled, sleeping, at his feet.  He’d also found a few camp chairs and a small green plastic side table somewhere that sat next to his mounded-hay bed.  Scully noted in passing that the sheets and blanket she’d given him were beneath an old, worn sleeping bag and looked unused, but decided not to mention it.

 

He turned and looked at her, closing the book he was reading, as she sat in one of the chairs without asking.  “So I guess you’re here to tell me that I have no choice in the matter—again.”

 

“Well it’s good to know that you can’t read minds,” Scully said calmly, though his prickly attitude got her hackles up as well.  “You know, we really don’t want to leave you behind either.  And we may have figured out a way that you can go with us.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her and Scully felt a shiver chase over her back. _That must be what it looks like when I do it,_ she realized.  _Only on Mulder’s face._   “Yeah?  Let’s hear this great idea.”

 

Once again she tamped back her annoyance at his condescending tone.  Getting in an argument wouldn’t do any good, even if she did want to give him a piece of her mind about his attitude.  Then it hit her: he was acting like a normal teenager, not a mentally damaged child who’d survived the end of the world and walked halfway across the country to find them.  That was something to celebrate, not suppress.  Though if he didn’t chill soon she was going to act like a normal mother and give him what-for. 

 

“Your Mulder-dad’s not a hundred percent with the idea, but I want to wait a few days and see if someone comes by whom we trust to stay with the animals, or who we can use to get word to people we know,” she explained.  “The thing is, he trusts _you_ , William.  He knows that if you stay here everything will get done, and we’ll come back to what we left.”

 

“ _If_ you come back,” the boy said sullenly, pulling a hand through his dark hair, which gleamed in the diffused sunlight. 

 

“That’s why I want you to go, and Mulder does too if we can find someone trustworthy to watch the farm,” she said in a firmer voice.  “I’d rather we stay together, but I did agree that if we can’t find someone by the time we need to leave, we’d ask you to stay here.”

 

He sighed.  “At least you’d ask me, though I guess you’d make me somehow if I said no.  Okay, fine, all right.  Is there anyone around here you know?”

 

“I’m not sure.” Scully sat back in the folding chair and laid her arms along the handles. “We think that Susan might not be too far away, but we’re not certain.  A few people have mentioned that she told them to look us up.”

 

“Maybe I, or we, can go find her,” William said, perking up.  “Better than waiting to see if someone just comes by.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Scully agreed, though she wasn’t sure if Mulder would go for it.  But there was only one way to find out.  “C’mon, let’s go see what your dad thinks.”

 

Though neither noticed it then, Scully later realized that it was the first time any of them had used the words mom or dad without some type of qualifier.

 

*          *          *

 

Though they never found Susan, they did stumble across someone else they knew, an older woman who had come to them for supplies and firewood back in the winter.  She was living about five miles away in a small remote country house with a white scarf tied to her mailbox, which she explained had become the signal that someone lived there.  Most people avoided others and didn’t try to take houses that were already occupied, though of course there were always exceptions to the rule.

 

Freda was more than happy to stay at the farm while they made their run to Richmond in exchange for a few items and books she needed, if they could find them.  Though in her early sixties and not familiar with farms, she showed that she was perfectly able to take care of what needed doing in their absence.

 

“The cows aren’t putting out as much milk as they were. Our son thinks that since they’re not pregnant they may just dry up,” Mulder said as he was walking around with her explaining the chores.  “I suspect we need to find a bull eventually, but in the meantime only milk the ones that bug you.”

 

Three days later they were ready to leave.  Freda had spent the night in the house, seemingly unconcerned that it could be attacked.  They left at the crack of dawn with one of the Haflingers pulling the small cart, which was almost a sulky. Mulder and Scully sat in it with William riding and steering the horse over the harness.  Though the cart was too small to carry supplies other than what they needed for the journey, they figured they could find something like a small trailer to attach to the back of it, or perhaps a larger wagon to hook the horse to.  William assured them that the Haflinger was plenty strong enough for whatever they needed, within reason.

 

As they moved down the driveway  they could hear dogs barking clearly from inside the house.  They had decided not to take any of them, even Buddy, so all of the canines were locked up until they were long gone.  Mulder had asked Freda to keep an eye on Rosie, in particular, who could jump the fence like a deer.  He didn’t think she would follow, but he wasn’t sure since they usually took her and Buddy on scavenging trips.

 

Mulder estimated that it would take them about a day to get to Richmond, assuming they’d move faster with the horse than when he and Scully had walked there the previous year.  Though they had stopped overnight on that trip, he didn’t think it would be necessary this time.  They planned to rest whenever William said the horse needed it but he thought the sturdy animal could make it without a long stop as long as they kept the pace reasonable.

 

When they reached the end of the driveway Mulder climbed out of the cart to open the gate, then closed it after they went through.  As he got in next to Scully again he glanced back at the big white house one final time, wondering if he would ever see it again.  If not, it contained some of the best memories of his life that he would never forget, no matter how long—or short—he lived.


	8. Chapter 8

**~ VIII ~**

 

Of the many nerve-wracking things she’d done in her life, this was one of the worst.

 

She and Mulder were crouched on the side of a half-destroyed building, peering around the edge.  The library, their target, stood alone among bombed ruins across a wide four-lane street opposite them.  It appeared that the invaders knew it was a special place and had deliberately spared it.  Scully wondered if they used it to learn more about the species they were destroying.

 

The waiting was almost intolerable, wondering if a bomb would fall on them halfway across or they'd be zapped and captured to God only knew what fate. 

 

Since there was such a large empty space to traverse, their strategy was to get across it just at dawn, with visibility at its worst.  Then there was nothing for it but to stay all day, unless they got lucky and it thunderstormed or there was an eclipse.  They didn’t dare go in at night and use any type of light to see by, so this was their best bet.

 

They were waiting for the sparkling, jet-black sky to just begin to turn to dark blue. With such drastically reduced light pollution the sky in the city looked much like the sky in the country these days.

 

Scully glanced over to where there was a faint beam of pale greenish light pouring up into the sky from somewhere beyond the ruined buildings to the west.  That was new; usually there were few lights except some scattered around in the factories, and those even dimmer than this one.  They had discussed aborting the trip when they first saw it from some distance away, but had ultimately decided to continue on.  They were more cautious than usual, though both knew that it probably wouldn’t make much difference.

 

She wondered how William was doing, and frowned as she remembered the argument they’d had last night.  She and Mulder had realized that someone needed to stay with the horse and cart so they weren't stolen, and William had blown up when he realized that they wanted him to stay—again.  But this time she and Mulder didn’t budge, though they did agree that he could make a trip in with one of them once they were done scavenging what they needed.  Though she was relieved that William was acting more like a normal teenager, Scully was getting heartily tired of all the backtalk.  They weren’t quite sure what to do about it, though, having a thirteen-year-old plunked in their laps with no prior experience.

 

“Ready?” Mulder’s hissed whisper disrupted her thoughts and Scully’s mind snapped to the present.

 

“Whenever you are,” she murmured. Following his lead, she stood up and shook out her arms and legs.  “Love you.”

 

“I love you too, Scully. _Go!_ ”

 

They skittered across the sidewalk and then blacktop, half-crouched over but moving as fast as they could.  Mulder quickly outdistanced her, but they had agreed that being apart was a strength in this situation, not a disadvantage. 

 

Both were dressed in black from head to toe, Scully wearing a jacket with the hood up and tied beneath her chin, despite the heat, to hide her bright hair.  It seemed to take forever to get across the wide street and her back prickled the whole time, though that might have been from how badly she was sweating in the heavy clothing.  Plus they were each carrying a black nylon Swiss Gear backpack, which contained a few items they might need and would use to carry their plunder out.

 

They bolted up the front stairs and through the unlocked main doors, Scully only moments behind Mulder.  Once inside, they ran to and down a hallway that was deep inside the building.  Though it was gloomy, they could see well enough not to bump into any walls without using the flashlights they carried.  They stopped and rested, leaning against the end of the hallway, dropping their packs with heavy thuds. Scully tore off her sweat-dampened jacket while Mulder shucked the long-sleeved black shirt he was wearing over a sleeveless grey undershirt. 

 

“Where to first?” she whispered, after they’d regained their breath.  It was already lighter at the other end of the hall. 

 

“Let’s get your books first. If I remember correctly they should be on the main floor over by the reference desk,” he replied.  “Then we’ll head upstairs to the farm section.”

 

They once again moved out crouched over and looking around alertly, even more cautious now that there was enough light coming in so they could see outside clearly.  All of the windows had been broken, but luckily few were close enough to the stacks so that not too much had been ruined from rain and snow, just a few bookcases along the walls.   

 

Both of them quickly found several books she wanted as well as a few others on subjects that looked interesting, and she wiggled out of her backpack, unzipping it.  The books went in, then she tossed it over her shoulder and followed Mulder to the end of the stacks, where they paused.  The stairway was right in front of the main doors, so they had to be extra cautious.

 

Upstairs hadn’t fared as well as the main floor.  A large, burned tree had crashed down into the main room near the back, leaving a good-sized hole in the roof.  Several tables had been crushed, and all of the stacks nearby were blown over, the books they contained water-swollen and mildewed.  “I don’t think we’re going to find anything that isn’t ruined, Mulder,” Scully murmured as they cautiously moved into the room. 

 

“Well, let’s take a look since we’re here,” he said, and she nodded.  They found that the stacks and shelves along the walls were mostly unharmed, though they didn’t find any of the books they had hoped to.  Scully did grab a few paperback romances for Freda from a rack near the doorway, though the books she had requested on knitting were nowhere to be found.

 

“Well that was quick,” Mulder said as they descended the stairs.  “Guess we may as well settle down to wait.”

 

The original plan was to lay low for the day, then sneak out after dark and head back to where William was waiting.  They had no idea if the invaders were watching the city closely enough to see just two humans, but why risk it.  The strategy had worked that first time so it made sense to do the same thing again.

 

On the other hand, Scully was so wired that she didn’t think she could stay still for long, and preferred to keep going.  “Mulder… I’m worried about William all alone out there.  Do you think we should chance going back to him, or maybe to the drugstore?”

 

He bit his lower lip gently as they went down the hallway to where they’d started, looking back at the beams of sunlight coming in the broken windows.  “Yeah, me too.  It’s damned dangerous in the light of day, we both know that.  Even though most of the captures we’ve heard about were at night, they often bomb during the day.”

 

“The first drugstore is only three blocks away.”  She gazed up at him in the dim hallway.  “I think we should risk it, so we can get back to William sooner.”

 

Mulder sighed,  then leaned down and kissed her briefly before nodding.  “Okay.  I’m not looking forward to sitting in here all day anyway.”

 

Scully had worn a light print blouse beneath the jacket, so she wouldn’t be as obvious as in the black.  Both wore dark jeans and heavy hiking boots, but there was no help for that; it was likely that they would be easily spotted without any camouflage if someone was around.  They stuffed her jacket and his other shirt into the packs, then shouldered them. 

 

This time they headed for the back of the library, though the buildings were just as flattened around that entrance as in the front.  The doors were blocked by the tree that had fallen through the roof, or so they thought at first.  Mulder went closer and saw that there was enough clearance to get one door open, and the trunk of the tree went almost to the next street.  “Scully—it looks like we can get to that building with walls high enough to hide us if we stay next to the tree,”  he said, drawing her close with an arm around her shoulders, and pointing. 

 

She nodded.  “You’ll be bent over almost double by the time we get there.”

 

“No guts, no glory.”

 

“We’d better hope we still have our guts after this,” she muttered half to herself, moving out from beneath Mulder’s arm reluctantly.  Then, louder, she added,  “Let’s do it.”

 

They made it across the street and into the shattered, half-walled building without incident.  They paused to rest and plan further, speaking quietly near each other’s ears as they shucked their packs. 

 

“The drugstore isn’t that far, I think we could run it if we stay low and close to what’s left of the buildings,” Mulder said, digging in his pack and pulling out a half-full water bottle.  He offered it to her and Scully took a swig before handing it back.  After taking a drink he added, “Hopefully it’ll have everything you need and we don’t have to try for another.”

 

Scully nodded, sitting back against the crumbled brick wall.  “Let’s take a good rest, though.  We’re not as young as we’d like to think, Mulder.”

 

“Speak for yourself, woman,” he said in a joking tone. He turned to sit next to her, but froze before he reached the ground.  “Oh my God.”

 

Scully lifted herself slightly to see what he was staring at.  She let out a low, wordless moan, then clapped a hand over her mouth.  But she could not stop looking.

 

A large group of older children, mostly what appeared to be pre-adolescents, were walking past the building in the middle of the wide street, carrying a large, rusty metal I-beam over their thin shoulders.  They were surrounded by a faint green glow, like a flat-bottomed, fuzzy bubble around them.  Some stumbled, but no one fell.  All were filthy, wearing rags that in some cases barely covered them, their hair grimy and matted.  From where they sat both Mulder and Scully could see the tears, terror, and hopelessness on their faces, which were of all races and skin colors.  They appeared to be contained by the glow, with no supervisor.  They watched motionless as the children carrying the huge metal beam and the accompanying green bubble disappeared into the distance past the library.

 

They glanced at each other in horror.  Scully wanted to leap up and go after them, but knew it was a fool’s errand.  Whatever was going on, they could not help those children without more information.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then said quietly, “I guess the rumors about people being kept as slaves are true.”

 

“We have to do something, Scully.” Mulder turned to her, his face anguished.  “Any one of those kids could have been William.”

 

“Oh my God.  We should get back to him,” she said, and started to rise unthinkingly.

 

Mulder’s hand on her shoulder pushed her back down.  “Wait—wait,” he said soothingly, though his expression belied the tone.  “He’s fine, he’s safe.  He promised us to stay put.  Let’s finish what we came here for, then tell him what we saw.  And what we can do about it.”

 

“All right, all right,” Scully agreed reluctantly. It was only the thought that their son was safe which kept her in place and not racing back the way they’d come.

 

#          #          #

 

William was already sick of waiting, and it had only been a few hours.  He knew that his parents were going to spend the day in the library until it got dark, but that didn’t mean he had to sit here doing nothing and listen to the stupid horse eat stupid grass and stupid birds sing while the stupid sun shone down on this stupid clearing.

 

He glanced back at Ping, who was hobbled in a small meadow surrounded by thick pine trees.  The cart sat off to one side, resting on its shafts, the leather harness draped across it to dry any sweat that had accumulated, and would be cleaned thoroughly when they returned home.  He had explained to his parents that tying a horse in this type of situation was not a good idea, as they could trip over or strangle themselves on a long tie-out.  He showed them how to make a pair of hobbles from some soft nylon rope.  They encircled the horse’s front ankles, leaving about a two-foot gap but would slow the horse if he tried to run.  That way the Haflinger had full access to the little pasture they’d found him, and was happily grazing in the sunlight.  Since the horses free-ranged and weren’t kept in a stall and fed hay and oats William wasn’t concerned that Ping would overeat and make himself sick on the rich grasses, which some did if they didn’t have frequent access to pasture.

 

The horse would be fine alone for a while, he reassured himself as he stood.  They hadn’t seen a single soul all the way here, nor any obvious signs of human habitation.  They’d covered their tracks just in case as they got close to the city, either leading the horse and cart in the thick grass on the side of the road or brushing over tracks that they left in the dirt or gravel.

 

He made his decision and stood abruptly, so fast that the horse lifted its head, startled.  Seeing nothing threatening them, Ping swished his long tail and lowered his head back to the grass, cropping it contentedly. 

 

 _Fine,_ William thought as he gathered up supplies and his backpack.  His parents wanted to leave him behind, think he couldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t they be surprised when they returned tonight and found him with a bunch of food and drugs and who knew what else he might dig up?  They seemed to have forgotten that he’d done his fair share of scavenging while on the long journey to them.  He had seen the map and remembered where the big chain drugstores were, though those were the last ones that Mulder and Scully would hit since they figured they’d been stripped first.  But maybe not.  Only one way to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

~ IX ~

 

 

 

They made it to the first drugstore without incident, though both kept an eye out for that telltale green glow or anything else moving.  To their dismay, it had been completely ransacked and there was little of any value left, however Scully did grab a few undamaged bottles of shampoo.  They had a camping shower behind the house and did their best to keep clean, although her beloved hot baths were nothing more than a faint, sweet memory.

 

After some discussion, they decided to head for a Walgreen’s about six blocks away; nonetheless, they were both concerned that any buildings which had survived in this part of the city had already been ravaged.  They’d often shopped in Richmond before the invasion, so Mulder recalled the stores they’d gone to and marked them on a map.  Most of the grocery stores had been bombed along with everything else, but it seemed like the drugstores, libraries, and even a few scattered businesses of other types had survived.

 

To their relief they made it without incident, and the battered but standing Walgreens held plenty of drugs despite the fact that the rest of the store had been pretty well trashed.  Scully filled their packs with everything she needed and could fit, then they hid the rest of the prescription drugs beneath a variety of shelving units along the walls where they couldn’t easily be found. 

 

But as they were about to head for the front door, they heard a strange, faint scraping noise coming from the back of the store.  They glanced at each other, then pulled their guns and moved carefully down the center aisle.  They paused between shelving units to check both sides before taking a few more steps and then stopping briefly again.  Another noise came, muffled but audible, sounding like something being dragged across a hard floor. 

 

They reached a door marked “employees only” behind the pharmacy counter, and it was clear that the noise was coming from beyond it.  It didn’t have a window and they had no idea what was behind it as they hadn’t bothered looking inside.  Mulder grasped the round handle and turned it carefully, just enough to make sure it wasn’t locked.  He looked meaningfully at Scully, who stood on the other side of the door.  She nodded, gun lifted and finger on the trigger guard, but with the safety off.

 

Mulder yanked the door open. They both pointed their guns inside but it was pitch black. They couldn't see a thing. Something inside hissed. The scraping noise came again, now loud and clear. It sounded like knife points being scraped on concrete, Scully thought. A shiver chased over her back. She raised one hand to Mulder. He didn't move.  She drew the large flashlight out of her belt and trained it inside the doorway, flicking it on.

 

They both froze in shock.

 

The room before them appeared to be an employee break room, with white Formica counters above wooden cabinets along two walls.  There were several tables and chairs scattered around, many of them broken.  Half-behind one of them was the body of a man, his torso ripped apart.  The broken ends of his white ribs stuck out from the bloody, flayed pulp of what had been his chest and abdomen. 

 

Crouched beyond it was what Scully recognized as one of the chitinous black aliens Mulder had described from the spaceship in Antarctica.  It was staring at them with solid, shiny black eyes, on all fours with its huge jet talons scraping over the cement floor.  Though she had never quite believed in them, before it happened she also hadn’t believed in the intelligent, human-assisted alien invasion that had taken place. 

 

Mulder opened fire and in the next second she did the same, aiming for center of mass as best she could with the way the thing was crouching.  It flew back against the far wall, chittering and waving its segmented limbs.  Ropey green blood burst from the bullet holes.  Both of them backed away though she didn’t think they were close enough to be affected.  Then Mulder got a shot point-blank in its neck which nearly severed the head, and seemed to put it down.

 

They stopped firing and studied the sprawled, motionless creature for a few moments, then glanced at each other wordlessly.  Just as Mulder was reaching for the door to shut it, a voice sounded from behind them. 

 

“What was… was that one of them?”

 

They both whirled around to see William standing a few feet away, holding his .22 in one hand and large Bowie knife in the other. 

 

Scully’s first impulse was to scold him for leaving the horse and cart alone, but she was too glad to see him after her earlier worry.  Instead she went to him and enfolded him in her arms, relieved to feel him hug her back. 

 

“We’d better get out of here.  God only knows who heard the gunfire and is heading this way,” Mulder said, holstering his gun and shoving the door closed with one foot. He went over to join them, giving the boy a one-armed hug as well.  “Where’s the horse?” he asked as they headed back towards the front of the store.

 

“Where we left him, he’ll be fine, I—“

 

Scully now glared at him.  “You left our things unprotected?  You were supposed to stay and guard them!”

 

He opened his mouth, but Mulder stepped in between them and grabbed each by a shoulder, hustling them towards the front of the dimly lit store.  “We do _not_ have time for this,” he hissed.  “Unless you two want to end up like that poor bastard back there, we need to get a move on.”

 

Scully grumbled under her breath and yanked away from his hand, shoving her gun into the back of her pants as they hurried down the central aisle.  At the shattered holes of the glass doors they paused, Scully and William on one side, Mulder on the other, and peered out cautiously. 

 

Nothing moved as far as their eyes could see, other than a few dead leaves skittering down the empty street in the occasional breeze.  But just as Scully opened her mouth to ask Mulder where they were going, faint screams rang out in the distance.  All three jerked and looked around and at each other in surprise.  Whoever it was, it certainly sounded human.

 

The screaming cut off abruptly and silence once again reigned.  There was no sound in the city, not even birds singing or crickets chirping despite it being summer.  They didn’t move from the doorway, waiting to see what else might happen.  But after a few minutes Mulder darted over to join Scully and William, and they moved back into the dim store a few steps and huddled together to talk.

 

“What do you think that was?” William whispered, standing next to Mulder who had his arm around both his and Scully’s shoulders.

 

“Sounded like a person, or people,” Mulder said.

 

Scully nodded.  “But it was muffled—though from distance or something over their mouth I couldn’t tell.”

 

“Should we go try and find them?” William said.

 

“Not now,” Scully murmured.  “It could be that they let someone scream every now and then to draw any stragglers to them.  Just like the kid with the green blood.”

 

“You’re right,” Mulder agreed.  “How about we go back to our camp, make sure everything’s okay, get some rest, and maybe come back tomorrow to scope it out?”

 

Both William and Scully nodded, the boy more reluctantly but obviously understanding.  “We’ll come back at dusk, maybe from the west side of the city?” she suggested.  “It did sound like it could have been in that direction.”

 

“All three of us?”

 

Both parents looked at the boy, who stared back guilelessly.  “Yes, all three of us,” Scully said, fighting a smile.  He had inherited both her and Mulder’s stubbornness, that much was for certain.

 

#          #          #

 

They took their time making their way out of Richmond.  Having seen the captive children and heard a human voice they were more aware than usual that they could be caught, especially after the loud gunfire.  But they saw no one or nothing alive as they slipped cautiously out of the city, finally entering the woods in late afternoon.

 

When they’d left the campsite earlier, both Mulder and Scully had broken branches pointing back the way they’d come, and set two large rocks at the entrance to the path they’d used.  Now they strode down the narrow dirt track  in single file, not talking, moving as quickly as they could without making too much noise.  The birds and insects were vocal in the woods unlike they’d been in the city, but there wasn’t any noise other than them or the occasional breeze in the branches.

 

They hadn’t gone more than a few hundred yards when they heard shouting and growling ahead.  Before Mulder or Scully could react, William bolted past them up the trail.

 

 _“William!”_ Scully hissed, but he was already disappearing around a bend.  Mulder took off after him, and she followed almost immediately but was soon left behind.  Her first thought was that it was one of the clawed black aliens ahead, but even so she soon recognized the growling as that of a dog.

 

Scully almost crashed into Mulder’s back as she burst out of the woods and into the clearing where they’d left the horse, cart, and supplies.  He caught her with a hand on her shoulder, and she saw that he was holding William back with an arm stretched across his chest. 

 

The cart had been dragged to the middle of the clearing, while Ping the Haflinger was at the edge of the forest as far away as he could get.  He was uneasily dancing and half-rearing but not panicked.  The harness was twisted around his head and neck, the rest dragging on the ground.  The hobbles were gone, but the horse made no move to run.

 

Between them was Rosie and their former guest Lee Seligman.  It seemed that he had not fared well, being much thinner than when they’d first met him a few months back, haggard-looking and wearing tattered, dirty clothing.  At the moment he was brandishing a large stick at the dog who was crouched, snarling, in front of him.  It appeared to have been used as a walking stick, since the bark and smaller branches had been stripped from it, and was about four or five feet long, perhaps three inches around at the base.  It was a sturdy club, but when he swung it at the dog, Rosie took the blow on her side without moving and then grabbed the stick with her strong teeth, nearly yanking it out of his hands. “Hey!” he yelled, startled, having not seen the others yet.  “Goddamned mutt!  Gimme that!”

 

They tugged back and forth for a moment, then Rosie yanked it out of his hands and dropped it.  Lee slipped and fell backward, then screamed and raised his arms over his face as the snarling dog leaped at him. 

 

“Rosie!  Halt!  Come!”

 

At Mulder’s shout the dog twisted in midair and managed to land on all four feet then galloped over to them.  Her tail was wagging so hard that she nearly bent in half as she gambled around them, obviously happy to have found her people. 

 

Mulder shucked his pack, then knelt and hugged Rosie with one arm, getting excited kisses across his neck and stubbly cheek as he praised her.  He kept his eyes on the other man, who was just removing his crossed arms from in front of his face and looking around with a bewildered expression until he spotted them.  “Son of a—shoulda known it was you assholes!” he snapped, slowly getting to his feet.  “Get that fucking dog away from me!  Shoulda shot it when I had the chance!”

 

Rosie turned away from Mulder and growled at Lee, showing her large, sharp white teeth.  “Sit, stay,” Mulder commanded her, then stood.  She sat at his side and lowered her upper lip, but kept growling low in her throat, sharp brown eyes not leaving the other man.

 

“Were you really trying to steal our things?” Scully said, bending down to pet Rosie’s head and setting her heavy pack on the ground at the same time.  The dog looked up at her, panting, and swiped a lick across her palm.  Then she went back to staring and grumbling.

 

“Hey, everything’s up for grabs these days, you know that,” he blustered, dusting off the seat of his filthy, ripped khaki pants.  “Nobody was here, figured it’d been left.”

 

“Yeah, everyone in Virginia has horses that look like ours,” William retorted, walking around his father to sit on the ground next to the dog and pet her, getting his face washed as well.  “You knew damn well that he belonged to us.”

 

“Hey, fuck you, brat—“

 

Lee snapped his mouth shut when he saw the Sig Sauer that Scully was suddenly training on him.  “Don’t you dare talk to our son like that,” she said coldly. 

 

“Go ahead, fuck it, put me out of my goddamned misery,” the other man whined.  “We musta ate something bad, both Patty and Stan died throwing up and in their own shit, and I been sick for weeks.  Can’t find nothing safe to eat, ain’t got no reason to live.”

 

“Why didn’t you come back to us?  You knew we’d help you,” Mulder said as Scully lowered her gun.

 

“Couldn’t find you,” he said sullenly, glowering.  “Been searching forever.  Instead I come looking for that creepy green light to see what it was.”

 

“Mom, Rosie’s hurt,” William said, lifting a hand to show a smear of blood.  “It’s on her side where he hit her with the stick.”

 

Scully tucked her gun away and dropped to her knees next to the dog as the boy moved over, and deflected the expected face-washing with a raised hand.  “William, can you hold her head so I don’t drown in dog slobber?” 

 

She paid little attention to the conversion between Mulder and Lee as she examined Rosie.  “She’s got a cut on her ribs, but I don’t think it’s serious; maybe a sharp edge on the branch caught her.  I’d like to shave the skin around it and put some antibiotic cream and tape on,” she finally said.  “But the battery-powered clippers are at home, so we’ll just have to keep it clean for now.”

 

Giving Rosie one last pat on the back she stood just in time to hear Lee say, “But why can’t I just come back with you?”

 

“Four could be too many, I’m not taking the chance.  I’d rather not have you here right now as it is,” Mulder said with exaggerated patience.  “Just head south—that’s to your right— down the road that’s over there on the other side of the trees,” he pointed, “and we’ll catch up with you when we’re done here.”

 

“We’re going to help him, Mulder?” Scully hissed in his ear, leaning close.

 

“Trust me, Scully,” he murmured in return then, louder, said,  “We’ll give you some supplies to tide you over until we find you.”

 

Then it hit her.  Their house was a day’s walk north from Richmond, not south. 

 

She saw William, looking outraged, open his mouth, and shook her head at him, winking where Lee couldn’t see her.  He subsided, frowning.

 

Mulder took Lee over to where their supplies were sitting beneath a tree not far from the horse, and Ping shied back almost into the trees as they drew near.  It was clear that he didn’t like the other man.  “William, could you come get the horse?” Mulder called.

 

“I’ll stay with Rosie,” Scully said as William hesitated.  “You’re better with the horses than either of us.”

 

She watched as he went over to the nervous gelding, removing the twisted harness and calming him with touch and voice.  He led the animal past where Mulder and Lee crouched over the packs, over to her and Rosie with just a hand on his neck.  The boy certainly had a way with animals, she mused.  Much more so than she and Mulder, though she didn’t think they’d done too badly with as inexperienced as they were.

 

Finally, Lee walked away and disappeared into the trees wearing a small blue nylon rucksack on his back, an extra that they had brought.  Mulder had given him half a loaf of bread, several cans of Vienna sausages, and a few pieces of their homemade venison jerky.  She told Mulder to add a box of Imodium and a couple bottles of Gatorade since she’d heard what he’d said about diarrhea and vomiting.  Though she didn’t know if it would do him any good, she couldn’t not do anything.

 

“You know, we rarely find out what happens to the people we help, and this time I wish we hadn’t,” Mulder said, coming over to where Scully, Rosie, and William sat in the horse’s shade as he grazed quietly.  He folded to the ground and joined them.  “God, I hope that’s the last we see of him.”

 

“In case you didn’t catch it, William, your dad sent him south instead of north,” Scully grinned at Mulder.  “I doubt we will.”

 

“Cool beans.  It’s awesome that Rosie found us,” William said, fondling the Shepherd’s black head between her upright ears.  “What a smart girl, aren’t you?”

 

Rosie panted up at him with a contented doggie-grin, then rolled onto her back with tan paws splayed for a belly rub.  The boy obliged as they talked. 

 

“What’s even more amazing is that she was clearly defending our things from that asshole,” Scully said, taking a drink from her water bottle.  “I wonder how long she’s been here?”

 

“I suspect he was trying to harness Ping when she got here and went after him,” William said.  “Although obviously he was too stupid to know that you always tie a horse before putting the harness on, which is why it was hanging off of him like that.”

 

“All right, let’s have some dinner.” Scully slapped her jeaned thighs and stood.  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” Mulder said, standing up next to her. 

 

“Good, then you can make it.”


	10. Chapter 10

**~ X ~**

 

The next morning they rose in pitch darkness, being awakened by William’s old, windup brass alarm clock which he quickly silenced with a slap.  Using flashlights hooded with socks they got dressed and then had sticks of homemade jerky, slices of skillet bread, and cold water from their canteens and thermoses for breakfast. 

 

“What are we going to do with Rosie?” Scully finally said, after thinking about it for half the night.  “If we take her with us and she makes noise it could bring attention to us, but if we leave her here she’ll probably start barking and that’s just as bad.”

 

“Good point,” Mulder said glumly, looking at the dog, almost invisible in the dark, who was wolfing down several pieces of jerky.  Hopefully it hadn’t been too long since she’d eaten; they figured that it had taken her half, or less, the time to reach them than it had taken them to get there.   

 

“I can stop her from barking,” William said confidently.  “I’ll keep her on a short leash next to me.”

 

“I don’t see that we have much choice,” Scully said unhappily.  “And I hope no one tries to steal the horse while we’re gone this time.”

 

“We should probably move him,” the boy suggested.  “Leave the cart here, but hobble him closer to wherever we sneak in at.”

 

“I think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Okay, then let’s get a move on.” Mulder rose from where he was crouching near the packs and put away what was left of their cold breakfast.  “Not long ‘til dawn as it is.”

 

Though they had planned to walk all the way around to the west side of the city, when they saw the sky in the east lightening they decided to just go in then and there though they were barely halfway to where they’d hoped to enter.

 

Ping was once again hobbled in a small clearing about half a mile into the forest, then William made a leash for Rosie out of a piece of rope about six feet long.  He tied loops in it every few feet so that he could let her explore a little or reel her in quickly if needed, and tied it to her collar.  They had taught her the command “quiet”, though they’d only ever used it when she was already barking.  No one knew if they could use the command preemptively, but they were going to have to find out.

 

William told Rosie to heel, which she did, and they started off. 

 

They didn’t know this area of Richmond very well, and there were few landmarks left.  It appeared to be mostly residential, as far as they could tell by the destroyed buildings, and they moved carefully from half-wall to half-wall.  Though Rosie’s nose was going a mile a minute, her large, cupped ears rotating like radar dishes, she didn’t even whimper as they moved cautiously into the city. 

 

By the time there were distinct shadows from the rising sun they were approaching the factory area. The undamaged, standing buildings, the only ones still intact anywhere nearby, towered over the rubble.  They stopped for a rest in the lee of a cinderblock garage that had two full walls standing, though the others and roof were rubble.  Mulder peered carefully around the far side, then turned back.  “Big open street, like in front of the library,” he whispered.  “But I see a way further down where we should be able to cross and get near that big factory where the green light is coming from.”

 

Scully nodded, crouched and holding onto her padded pack straps.  “Lead on, MacDuff,” she murmured, glancing at William.  He nodded and patted Rosie, whose head came up off her paws.

 

Mulder led them further up the street, growing more nervous by the second.  This was the only place that anyone knew for sure there were invaders.  Though they might continue to go unnoticed, there could be another scream or group of children walking by which could draw attention to them if they were too close.  But they had to find out exactly what was going on, if they could.

 

Step by careful step they made it to where a masonry and pipe chimney, old by the looks of the mossy, cracked bricks, had fallen across the street.  As they crouched behind it, the factory they were heading for on the other side, William nudged his father.  “Look at Rosie,” he whispered.

 

Her hackles were up as she scented the air by pulling deep breaths through her wet, working black nose.  Both her tail and ears went down. She turned to look at the boy and whined softly.  “Sshhh, quiet,” he told her in a low voice, gently placing his hand over her long black muzzle.  “There’s something out there she doesn’t like at all,” he added.

 

Mulder waved them back and crept further toward the shallow end of the pipe, crawling the last few feet before he began to move around trying to see through the bricks.  Then he froze, and finally scooted back to them on his hands and knees.

 

“Don’t move,” he whispered harshly.  “Keep Rosie completely silent.”

 

No one questioned him as they all held still, William with his hand still resting on Rosie’s muzzle.  Within moments they could hear footsteps, dull and muted on cement.  Only seconds later they began to see a green glow between the bricks, then a group of people marched into sight around the end of the broken chimney, heading into the rising sun.

 

Like the children that he and Scully had seen the previous day, these adults were ragged and filthy, of all sizes and colors, surrounded by a hazy green light.  But what they hadn’t been able to make out before was the sharp silvery glow on the backs of their necks where they weren’t covered by hair.  Mulder realized that the gleam was from their implants, and almost told Scully to run.  They’d checked William for an implant shortly after he’d arrived, which he didn’t have, so she was the only one in danger.

 

He looked over at her. Scully was staring past him with her mouth open, but she had her hair in two long braids and he could see that her implant wasn’t glowing, and relaxed.  The group, maybe a dozen, walked, or more accurately, stumbled and scuffed, past them without looking around.  They soon turned a corner and eventually disappeared among the rubble.

  
The three looked at each other, their eyes anguished.  William was petting and calming Rosie.  Her hackles slowly went down, though she still gazed in the direction where the group had disappeared. 

 

“Do we need to see more?” Scully hissed.

 

“We need to find out where they’re being kept, if we can,” Mulder whispered in return.  “William, will you stay here with Rosie?  I don’t think she’ll be quiet much longer.”

 

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” the boy murmured, sitting down and patting the cement next to him.  Rosie laid down with her long body against his leg, putting her head in his lap.  “Don’t be long, okay?”

 

Scully leaned down and kissed the top of his dark head, and Mulder squeezed his shoulder.  They didn’t look back as they crept away, though both wanted to.

 

#          #          #

 

For once William had no plan to disobey his parents.  As soon as they were gone he began looking around the broken smokestack, and was able to wriggle into a hole in the pipe and coax Rosie to join him.  They were surrounded by both concrete and brick, barely visible from the outside.  It wasn’t a great hiding place, but better than sitting out in the street.

 

He watched the dog closely to make sure she wouldn’t start whining or barking, but before long Rosie put her head down on her paws and went to sleep.  Without meaning to, William joined her.

 

#          #          #

 

They had thought it would be more difficult to get into one of the factories, but it turned out to be far easier than they hoped. It was also extremely suspicious. 

 

There was no one around, human or invader, as they snuck through a hole in one wall from a narrow alley, easily found by the green glow emanating from it.  There were several buildings in a mile square area with the telltale celadon light spilling from them.  Only a large one in the middle was bright enough to see during daylight at a distance.

 

That was the one they picked to investigate.  Scully had changed into a pair of faded-almost-white jeans and a pale blue tank top while Mulder now wore a pair of khaki shorts and the same gray undershirt from yesterday.  They weren’t as noticeable today as yesterday’s black clothing had been—or so they hoped.

 

The inside of the factory they entered was totally bare; any machines or tables or equipment had been removed.  The dust on the floor appeared to be undisturbed for quite some time, and smell was flat, of cardboard and old oil.  It was bright from a row of skylights in the sloped metal roof as well as the green glow which emanated from an unseen source.  Scully saw a large, closed metal door at the far end that had brighter green light spilling around the edges of it and nudged Mulder with her elbow, pointing when she had his attention.  He nodded, and they moved warily along the wall until they reached the other end. 

 

It had a metal bar handle and when Mulder reached for it, Scully put a hand on his arm to stop him.  She reached in her front jeans pocket and extracted a small penknife, then moved back and tossed it at the handle.  It bounced off harmlessly with a small clink.  She retrieved it and put it away.  They exchanged a glance that both understood: better safe than sorry.

 

Scully went to stand on the other side of the door as Mulder depressed the handle and gingerly pulled it open just enough to see through.  Both peered cautiously into the narrow crack, jerking back just a little with grimaces as a horrid stench assaulted them.

 

Beyond was another cavernous room, but this one bustled with industry.  There was no obvious lighting other than the bright green glow, but even so they could see clearly.  There were at least two or three dozen humans, of all sizes and colors, working like robots at what appeared to be several workstations and machines around the room.  It was impossible to tell what they were doing, but Scully saw the flash of metal between their bodies several times.

 

Each person was surrounded by the green light, with a faint white glimmer on the back of their neck. These seemed to be in slightly better shape than the others they’d seen, though all were wearing garments so tattered and worn that most could barely be called clothing and showed more skin than they covered.  Everyone moved with jerky, stiff movements which made Scully think of the early Disney audio-animatronics such as those on the original Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  It was obvious that they were being controlled by the implants, and whoever was doing the controlling didn’t care the least about them.  There were also several bodies lying around on the floor, obviously the main source of the vile reek, which the controlled workers either stepped over or around.  A few were quite decayed, while a small one—an older child or tween, by the size—seemed fresh and had barely-congealed blood beneath its clotted hair.

 

Mulder touched her shoulder lightly and she moved back so he could silently close the door. He stepped up next to her, putting an arm around her and whispering into her ear. “Do you need to see any more?”

 

“God,  no,” she choked almost inaudibly, fighting her gorge.  Though dead bodies had never bothered her, the scene in the next room made her both physically and mentally ill.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

They cautiously returned to the hole in the cinderblock wall they’d used to get in.  No sooner were they both out than she noticed another green glow emanating from the rear of the next building over, about two hundred yards away.  She elbowed Mulder and pointed, raising her eyebrows at him.  He shrugged, and followed her as she carefully made her way along the alley. 

 

Scully peered warily around the corner, then froze.  One hand frantically waved Mulder back, but she was afraid to move in case she was seen.

 

Standing behind the building were two Grays, the first confirmation of who the invaders actually were.  Neither wore clothing, and were exactly as Mulder had always insisted: small, sexless, large heads, pale pearly gray skin, gigantic solid black eyes.  They were standing facing each other, not moving, but she got the impression that they were communicating.  The mottled green light streamed from an open bay door on the loading dock behind them, black plastic strips hanging over it. 

 

She felt something brush against her leg and only terror made her stay still, not scream, and manage to move just her eyes downward.  Mulder was on all fours, also peering around the corner.  She realized that she was holding her breath when she began to feel dizzy.  Carefully she inhaled, then silently regulated her breathing to make sure she didn’t pass out.

 

As they watched, the pair of aliens turned, one gesturing away from them, then the other pointed at the warehouse door.  Apparently an agreement was reached, because they turned and looked up.  Within moments a glaring white light shone down on them and then they, and the bright beam, abruptly disappeared.  Mulder and Scully looked up to see a large, silent, triangle-shaped grayish-tan craft disappear into the sky overhead.  It was out of sight in moments.

 

Scully carefully pulled back, then turned to look around to make sure that no one had seen them.  Mulder stood up beside her, his face paler than she’d ever seen it.  Leaning close, she whispered, “We’d better get out of here before they come back.”

 

He shook his head.  “We’ve got to see what’s in there, Scully. I think it may be the final piece to the puzzle.”

 

She blew out a breath; though it was the last thing in the world she really wanted to do, she knew he was right.  “Okay.  You go first this time.”

 

He reached over and squeezed her hand.  “Throughout all my life, Scully, no one has ever believed in me like you have.  And I love you so much for it.”

 

She raised her face for a brief kiss, pressing his hand in return. “And I love you for never giving up on me, or hating me for things I’ve had to do.”

 

Mulder gazed down into her uplifted blue eyes for a moment, and Scully nodded.  Once again, words were not really needed.


	11. Chapter 11

 

~ XI ~

 

William woke with a jerk, staring around in the pitch darkness and then, remembering, reached for Rosie.  But she was gone.

 

He lay still for a few moments, then pushed himself carefully upright, sitting with his back against what he assumed was the cool, damp side of the concrete pipe.  He quickly realized that he must have fallen asleep, and somehow laid down in a halfway comfortable position.  His heart was pounding in his chest, and he couldn’t hear anything over its thundering.  His nose was filled with the smell of damp brick and mold.

 

Though he wanted to bolt William sat frozen, trying to force his heart into calming down.  He had a small penlight in his pocket but being unable to tell what woke him, he was afraid to turn it on.  And he didn’t dare move until he could see; he could feel piles of tumbled and broken bricks around him and knew that if he tried to crawl he’d probably hurt himself, or make a loud enough noise to bring every invader around at a run.  Or crawl, or whatever.

 

He began to take deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth, a calming technique that a friend of his with asthma had used.  Gradually his heart slowed, and eventually he was able to hear beyond his own pulse in his ears.

 

There was absolutely nothing.  No sound at all, not so much as the chirping of night insects.  Nor was there any light, not even the faint eerie green glow they’d seen nearby.

 

Finally, after what seemed like forever sitting in the pitch dark, William realized that he had no choice but to use the light.  Besides being just about totally freaked, he really had to pee.  But to be safe, he put the small Husky penlight behind the bottom of his black t-shirt before turning it on.  To his relief, it gave enough light to see by but wasn’t the bright white LED glow that could probably be visible from miles away.

 

Carefully he crept out of the pipe, moving slowly and deliberately so he didn’t knock over any of the piled bricks.  A few did slide, but there was no loud noise so he didn’t worry about it.  When he finally crouched on the blacktop of the road next to the broken chimney, he clicked the flashlight off and looked around.

 

It was pitch-dark in every direction except across the street, where the ruins for some distance were lit with the eerie lime-colored glow from the group of large factories.  Apparently his hiding place was still solid enough that it hadn’t been able to penetrate inside.  But now he could see at least a few feet in every direction, which looked even more dismal and ghastly in the green-tinted dark than in bright sunlight.

 

 _Place looks worse than it had during the Civil War,_ he thought.  At least in those blurry old photos he’d seen in history class most of the buildings had been standing, if damaged.

 

What had happened to his parents and Rosie, he wondered uneasily.  He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but why hadn’t the dog stayed with him or, if she’d wandered off, found his parents and led them back to him?  His mind shied away from the most obvious answer and he decided that it was up to him to find them.

 

After relieving himself, William scooted to the larger end of the chimney half bent over.  He paused to look around, and caught the brief flare of a dim whitish light in the distance past the piles of rubble beyond the chimney.  Though he had no idea if it was his parents or a trap, he figured it was better than sitting there all night.

 

Since it was dark he guessed he had less chance of being seen, and hurried along what was left of the streets without hiding or bending over and made much better time. But when he reached the outskirts of the city, where heaps of broken buildings gave way to encroaching forest, there was nothing in sight. He paused, looking around, between what appeared to be the remains of a wooden house and a stand of saplings only a few yards away.

 

He didn’t want to go into the woods and get lost, but on the other hand it wasn’t a good idea to be out in the open when morning came.  Though William had a decent sense of direction and a pretty good idea of where he was in relation to the first campsite, he didn’t have a compass.  His dad usually carried it.  If he was wrong and went west instead of east he could end up wandering even further from the farm.

 

Then he turned and looked back at the city.  The wide, faint but clear bar of pale green light still glimmered upwards from some distance away on his left.  If he calculated correctly, he needed to turn right to head back to the campsite. And if he hadn’t found it by morning, he made himself a deal, he would head for home.  He knew he was south of the farm, at least.

 

It was then he realized that he’d left his pack, which had water, food, and a change of clothes, in the chimney pipe.  That was one thing he’d never had to deal with before; even the times he’d run from the refugee camps he’d had supplies with him. Outside of going back into Richmond, he had no idea where to forage for food and water. There _was_ a small stream not far from their first campsite… if he could find it.

 

William began to walk along the outskirts in what he thought was an eastern direction, trying to stay in the shadow of the rubble and out of the trees.  The sky was clear and speckled with twinkling stars, but the moon wasn’t up to shed additional light. Also having paid more attention in astronomy class would be a bonus right now, he thought glumly.  The positions of the stars meant nothing to him.

 

He had been walking for an indeterminate amount of time when he thought he saw the faint flash of light again to his right, which was in the forest. Taking a chance, he whistled the sequence they used to call Rosie, but as low as he could.  He knew how much better a dog’s hearing was than a human’s.  Then he moved into the rubble, finding a half-wall he could hide behind, flashlight off, and looked towards the forest to see if anyone—or thing—came to find him.

 

Only a few minutes later he heard a crashing in the woods.  He sank lower behind the wall so that his eyes barely peered over.  Something was moving in the dark, but he couldn’t tell what it was.  More figures joined it and he almost bolted, unable to make out if they were human or alien and assuming the worst.

 

Then what was unmistakably a dog’s whine drifted to his ears.  “Ssssh!” one of the other amorphous forms hissed, but as he watched the smallest one detached from the others and ran straight at him.  He knew that shape.  William stepped over the low wall, crouched, and put his arms out.

 

And promptly got knocked over by a large body.  For one horrified moment he thought he’d been mistaken and it was an alien like the black beetle-armored thing he’d seen in the drugstore.  Then came the unmistakable feel of a dog’s large, wet tongue licking his face . “Rosie!” he breathed with relief, trying to see the dog in the dark so he could hug her as he got to his feet. But she was wriggling around with happiness and all he could feel was an occasional bump from her wagging tail, and her soft fur as she brushed by him.

 

“William?” The whisper came from nearby, but the figures had disappeared and he didn’t see anyone.

 

He froze, then did the whistle again. It was returned from a short distance away, but behind him instead of in front.  He heard Rosie’s nails clicking on cement as she moved away, and took the chance of turning on his light beneath the t-shirt, pointing it at the ground.

 

Moments later two dark figures loomed out of the dimness and enfolded him in their arms.  “Thank God, William, where were you?” His mother sobbed softly in his ear.  “We couldn’t get Rosie to lead us to you.”

 

“We thought they’d caught you.” Mulder’s low voice was anguished.

 

He clung to them, struggling not to cry.  “I thought the same about you,” he choked out.  “I went inside the pipe af-after you left. I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but—but—“

 

“It’s all right, William, shhhh,” his mother murmured into his ear, tousling his hair with one hand, both of them still holding him tightly. He realized then that he was crying and blubbering, and tried to get himself under control.

 

“Suh-suh-sorry,” he hiccupped, stepping back reluctantly. “Didn’t mean to be such a crybaby.”

 

“God, don’t—don’t worry about it, son,” Mulder whispered, and he heard the hitch in his father’s voice which helped calm his embarrassment. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

“I left my pack in the pipe—should we go back and get it?”

 

“No, I don’t think we need it,” Scully said as they started out.   “I’ve got extras of everything.”

 

“Then can I have some water?  I left my canteen in there and I’m really thirsty.”

 

As they hurried along the grassy berm William followed, taking swallows from his mother’s water bottle until satisfied, Rosie padding by his side. Every so often his parents stopped and checked the compass, then continued on.  “Aren’t we going to get Ping?” he whispered.

 

“We already got him, he’s back at the campsite.” Scully slowed to walk next to him, Mulder and the dog leading the way since there wasn’t room for all of them to walk abreast.  “We found Rosie after we left the factory area, and told her to lead us to you, but she whined and shied back every time we tried to get her to go near that area.”

 

“I was sleeping in the pipe,” William said, surprised.  “I just woke up a while ago.”

 

“I don’t know what was with her, but she was determined not to go back there,” Mulder whispered over his shoulder. 

 

William thought about it as they walked in silence, but couldn’t figure out why Rosie couldn’t or wouldn’t take them to him.  Had there been an invader nearby whose visit he’d slept through?

 

It wasn’t long before they were back at the campsite.  Ping neighed as they walked into the clearing and the boy hurried over to quiet him.  Hugging the gelding around the neck, William finally felt as safe as he could be until they got back home.  Though he would never tell his parents, he had totally changed his mind about being allowed to come along.

 

#          #          #

 

The next morning they packed up and harnessed the horse quickly so they could leave before it got fully light.  While Ping clopped along on the empty highway that led back to their farm Scully passed out the last of the jerky and fry bread.  They hadn’t picked up any foodstuffs so they kept an ~~y~~ eye out for buildings they could search for supplies, though they didn’t see anything that was worth stopping for.  Every town and building, including and until they were past Hanover, had been destroyed, and after that there wasn’t much but trees and abandoned fields.

 

Had they known they’d be staying an extra day plus giving food to Lee, Scully thought, they would have brought more or at least tried to scavenge some.

 

The Richmond Turnpike, which led almost all the way back to their home, was a blacktop two-lane road with thick forest crowding up on both sides for most of the journey.  Several times they flushed deer that bounded away crashing into the brush with flipping white tails, having to call Rosie back each time so she wouldn’t chase them out of voice range.  Mulder mentioned out loud that he wouldn’t have minded taking an overnight break and bagging one of the deer.  Scully then pointed out rather acerbically that there were plenty of deer around their farm and that they wouldn’t starve to death in the hours it would take them to get home.

 

In late afternoon William spotted a thorny tangle of berry bushes off to one side and they stopped, taking the time to forage for wild food.  They managed to make a meal consisting of blackberries, wizened apples from an ancient tree, some small puffball mushrooms, and the raw, starchy roots of a few cattails.  The tall plants grew beside a small stream that burbled through the culvert that ran beneath the road; had it been spring, they could have added the flowers and roots from the common orange daylily.  They filled their water bottles and canteens from the stream before moving on.  Scully was very glad that one of the books they’d gotten from the library on their first trip there the previous year had been _Wild Edible Plants of the Chesapeake Bay Woodlands_.

 

They kept going through the night, having Ping trot for as long as they felt it was safe for him, walking or stopping to rest when William thought he needed to.  They were making much better time going back than they had when heading for Richmond.  After one break around three a.m. Scully and William switched places so he could find out from Mulder exactly what they’d discovered in the factories.  Though she hadn’t been on a horse in years, it wasn’t long before Scully got used to the horse’s easy, rocking gait and then had to keep herself from dozing off with an effort as the night wore on.

 

She could just barely hear the murmur of their voices behind her.  To help keep herself awake Scully remembered what she and Mulder had found in the largest factory, though her mind shied away from the horror.  Still, they all had to face it.

 

It was, Mulder said, something like the spaceship he’d found her in in Antarctica, minus the refrigerated units.  To her, it looked more like the scenes in _Alien_ and _Aliens_ where the mother alien had people stuck in goo while the baby aliens gestated inside them, and she supposed it wasn’t that much different if more… efficient. 

 

Everything in the factory had been lit by that eerie green glow though there was no apparent source.  Inside the door with the hanging black rubber strips they found row upon row of what appeared to be large, tan plastic T-shaped hangers stacked against the walls, sizable enough to hold an adult human body.  There was a big bay door at the other end of the room, more green light streaming through it.  This was where they found the real atrocities.

 

She choked out a low sob, remembering, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

But Mulder heard it.  His low, murmuring voice paused and then, louder, “You okay, Scully?”

 

“I’m fine, Mulder.” In her mind’s eye Scully saw his disbelieving, questioning look to her usual answer, and added, “I mean it, I’m okay.  Just tired and hungry like you guys.  And don’t you say one word about those deer we saw.”

 

A low chuckle was her answer, and the low drone of his voice resumed. 

 

 _Conveyor belts,_ she thought despite trying to block the memory.  They had human beings on conveyor belts.

  
Whatever the factory had previously been used for, it appeared that the invaders had appropriated its existing conveyor belt for a totally different purpose.  Instead of steer carcasses or car parts, human beings had been hung on the T-shaped plastic hangers which were suspended from large hooks and dangled just a few feet from the stained cement floor.  The bodies stuck to the hangars like flies to flypaper, with no visible straps or bindings.  From what they were able to see, most of the people were emaciated, partly translucent, and covered in some sort of slime—just like the body that Scully had examined at Bethesda Naval Hospital.  A sickly-looking, stringy white tube ran from their mouths to disappear into the dark ceiling overhead. While they watched from the doorway, a wet black alien dropped from among the hundreds of hanging bodies at the far end of the room.  It splatted to the floor with a crackling yet squishy sound, made a strange loud chittering noise, then got up and skittered off into one of the black doorways in the back of the room.

 

The assembly line grumbled into creaking life, moving exactly one foot with a grating of old, rusted metal, then slid to a stop.  The suspended bodies swayed slightly, but soon were still again.  The only sound was a faint, echoing drip of water somewhere in the distance.  Then, without warning, something else fell with a faint splat at the far end of the room and they both stared in that direction.

 

Though it was at least a couple of hundred yards away, Scully realized that what she’d taken for mounds of old rags against the far wall were actually piles of decaying human bodies.  They were too far away to make out any details other than the occasional hand or foot sticking out, but unmistakable once recognized.

 

It was then that she’d realized the newly-infected bodies were closest to where they stood, and at the other end of the room were the ones which were fully gestated and ready to be “born”.  Apparently the humans just got dropped and left to rot after the alien clawed its way out. 

 

That also explained the low disgusting stink of the place, which she was just then becoming aware of.

 

Though she had thought she couldn’t feel any more horrified after seeing the laborers in the other factory, Scully felt her head swim and stomach lurch at the realization.  She reached out and braced one hand against the cool, slimy wall despite not wanting to touch anything.  She glanced beside her and Mulder didn’t seem to be in much better shape.  His face was pale and tinted veridian, which she didn’t think was solely from the light.

 

When she glanced over at the wall she was leaning on, she saw a group of greasy, wriggling black ~~-~~ oil slugs slithering towards her hand. 

 

That was it. Even though Scully knew she was immune, she simply couldn’t handle any more.  She bolted without thinking.  Her only memory was of running, racing, speeding away from it all as fast as she could.  Though she had always prided herself on being strong and resilient, Scully supposed that there was only so much any human being could take before snapping.  Unless they were total sociopaths, of course.

 

Mulder had stayed with her when she ran; when she finally stumbled to a stop in the fields outside the city, gasping for breath and digging one hand into her side where a cramp bloomed, he was right next to her.  He threw an arm around her shoulders, his chest heaving and hair damp with sweat.  “I—I can’t believe it,” he gasped.  “Did we really just see that?”

 

Scully nodded, unable to stop herself from crying with anguish at the horrific sight.  Despite how hot and sweaty she was, she turned and threw her arms around Mulder, feeling him sobbing as well.  They sank to the ground to weep in each other’s arms until they got the primary shock out, then just sat resting, holding each other for a time in the quiet warmth and sunlight of the verdant field. 

 

“We’d better find William and get the hell out of here,” she finally said, using the bottom of her blouse to wipe her eyes as they reluctantly moved apart.  “Goddamn it, where _are_ we?”

 

By the time they found their way back to the glowing green factories it was late afternoon, and they couldn’t seem to find the street where the chimney had fallen across it.  Though only a few factories were glowing, there were a lot of streets around them and the rubble often looked like the broken pile of bricks they were searching for only to find that it wasn’t when they got there.  Rosie found them after they’d been searching for a couple of hours, clearly happy and proud to have done so.

 

But when they told her to find William, she tucked her tail and ears and slunk around, whining.  Neither had any idea what the dog was trying to tell them.  Rosie knew “find <person>” and usually did it well, but this time she seemed upset.  Though Mulder mentioned it, Scully was pretty sure that it wasn’t because she didn’t have her tennis ball to be rewarded with.  At the time she was terrified that Rosie hadn’t been able to go to William because invaders had gotten him, though she now knew they hadn’t.

 

They got out of the city before full darkness fell and went to where they’d left Ping, leading him back to the campsite while discussing what to do.  The worst scenario was that William had been captured, which Scully refused to entertain for more than a moment.  Mulder thought he had gone back to where they’d hidden the horse, so they agreed to try there before reentering the city if need be.

 

They were taking a short break and looking at the compass with a hooded flashlight when suddenly Rosie jumped to her feet, ears going straight up, and whined low.  That was when they’d found William, and Scully had reaffirmed her promise to God that if nothing happened to him, He could do whatever He wanted with her.

 

Just then she felt the horse slow and jerk his head back, then shake it.  The reins flopped where they went over her thighs.  “Ping must smell or hear something.” She turned and called back low.  “He’s shaking his head.”

 

The reins went taut momentarily then the horse stopped, bobbing his head and snorting.  William came to her side and helped her down over the harness shafts, then the three of them paused by the front of the horse and looked around warily.  Rosie stood just in front of Ping, turning her head and sniffing the air with her large ears swiveling. 

 

Scully noticed that there was a faint lightening in the eastern sky; morning wasn’t far away.  Birds were beginning to chirp, but there was an almost hushed stillness in the air.  

 

Suddenly William stiffened and then stepped back jerkily, bumping into the horse who sidestepped nervously but didn’t spook.  “We need to get back—now,” he said in a curiously flat, dull voice, his eyes faraway.  “Something bad’s happened at the farm.”


	12. Chapter 12

**~ XII~**

 

Suddenly they noticed roiling black smoke rising above the trees in the distance.  Scully gasped and they all picked up their pace as they headed for the farm

 

William was leading Ping at a trot, still hooked to the cart, while Mulder and Scully ran on foot to give the horse a break.  “We should leave the horse at the shelter, if it’s still there, as well as the supplies we got,” Scully panted as they neared the turnoff for it.  “There’s no telling _what_ we might run into.”

 

“Good idea,” William agreed.  His heart was still beating fast though he’d had his weird vision… premonition… whatever it was, over an hour ago.  Though he barely remembered speaking, he’d never forget the sensation of cold terror that had washed over him without warning.  It was nothing like his other intuitions, and far worse. 

 

To their relief, the shelter was just the way they’d left it, the structures intact despite their dilapidated appearance, the supplies untouched.  They pulled the harness from Ping and tossed it over the furniture inside the cabin until they could clean it.  There was an empty, ramshackle shed not too far away among overgrown weeds and bushes, and they stored the cart in there.

 

They decided to keep Rosie on a leash since they had no idea what was ahead.  It was assumed that she’d escaped and found them before whatever happened. If it was still going on they didn’t want her running willy-nilly into the middle of it.

 

When they came out of the cabin, the air was full of the smell of scorching and smoke.  But it wasn’t the bitter, pinched odor of the invaders’ green bombs, but something more natural, like a camp or forest fire.  William knew it was wood, at least, but what was so big that it would have them seeing and smelling smoke from so far away?

 

Since they didn’t know how long they’d be gone or even if they would come back, it was decided not to tie or hobble the horse.  William led him as far away from the buildings as he could until he found a good spot and, with one last hug, left Ping grazing in a wide meadow with a tiny stream trickling through it.

 

They jogged cautiously along the side of the road, all of them looking around and ready to flee into the trees at a moment’s notice.  Though he hadn’t had another warning, William could still feel that something was very wrong and let his parents know to be careful. 

 

When they were almost within sight of the farm Rosie suddenly began barking fiercely, hackles raising, and bolted, tearing the rope leash out of Mulder’s hand. So much for keeping her safe, William thought.  She raced across the road, leaped the fence still barking and snarling, and disappeared behind the overgrown bushes which still blocked their view.

 

They looked at each other anxiously, Mulder shaking his hand which had an angry red mark across the palm. They broke into a run and followed the dog, though they had to travel parallel to the fence until the farm came into sight.  Then they stopped abruptly, nearly stumbling over their feet and reaching out, clinging to each other as they stared in disbelief.

 

The farm had been destroyed.

 

#          #          #

 

Mulder gaped, wordless with shock.  He had seen many atrocities in his life, had terrible things happen to both him and Scully, but this was so far off the scale, so different from what he might have expected, his brain just shut down. All he could do was stand and gawk, one hand on his son’s shoulder while his partner clutched at his chest.

 

Both buildings, the house and barn, had been charred nearly to the ground but were still burning, releasing translucent grey and black clouds of eddying smoke into the air. Some  small patches of grass around the ruins were on fire, though none of the ground cover was dry enough for the flames to spread.

 

Scattered around the yard and nearby fields were the carcasses of what appeared to be most of their animals.  Cows, chickens, and goats lay in bloody heaps.  To their relief, they soon realized that the other horse and most of the dogs weren’t among the carcasses.

 

Scully opened her mouth, but only a half-groan half-cry came out.  Mulder put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side, then did the same with William on the other.  They clutched one other desperately as they looked around in shock.

 

His mind flashed back twenty years to the burning of the X-Files office in the basement of the Hoover building.  This wasn’t an alien bombing, it was deliberate sabotage meant to send a clear message. _Well, I get it, you old cancer-breathing bastard,_ he thought coldly, shock wearing off as the realization hit him.  _And just like last time, we may be down but we’re not out.  Not by any means._

 

“The Smoking Man did this, didn’t he?” Scully choked out.  “I thought he was dead!”

 

“Who’s that?” William said, seemingly unaware that tears were streaming down his face.

 

“I thought he’d been killed too.  I can’t even imagine how he survived that missile, but obviously he did.” Mulder turned to William. “The Smoking Man, aka CGB Spender, was an old enemy of ours and it was he, with his syndicate, who orchestrated all this.” He  removed his arms from around the others then they slowly walked towards the gate.  “We thought we’d destroyed them, but obviously we didn’t.  Even if it’s not Spender, then it’s someone carrying on his work.”

 

“He means that Cancer Man helped the alien invasion,” Scully said, heaving a deep sigh then coughing lightly.  “I think we told you some about that.”

 

William nodded as Mulder opened the gate.  They went through, for the first time not bothering to close it.  Mulder tore off the wooden sign that had been there since not long after the invasion began, and threw it into the bushes.  Their waystation was obviously no longer in business.

 

“Why’d he do this?  Especially kill the animals—they weren’t hurting anyone!” William exclaimed, his head swiveling as he looked around.

 

“He did it to let us know he’s watching us, and won’t let us start an uprising,” Mulder said, remembering when Scully had told William the same thing a few months back.  This demonstrated it even more.  “He used the animals to prove his point.  You’re right, he didn’t have to kill them.  But they gave us hope, and food.”

 

Just then Rosie came bounding back, snarling and shaking something in her mouth.  “Bring it here!” William called.  When she came over he added, “Drop it.  Sit, stay.”

 

The big Shepherd sat and dropped it at his feet.  They saw that it was part of a filthy plaid shirt, ripped and torn.  “Isn’t that the shirt that Freda was wearing when we left?” Scully said in a confused voice, nudging it with her booted foot.

 

“Pretty sure,” Mulder agreed, looking around as William released Rosie from her sit/stay.  He was beginning to get an idea of what had happened.

 

Rosie ran over to something they couldn’t make out on the ground a few yards away, snarling and growling at it while dancing around the small area but not getting too close.  Her hackles were up, tail and ears down, which they all knew meant it was something bad.

 

They walked cautiously over to her.  In the flattened, burnt grass were several pale, severed fingers, tendons and ligaments hanging from them like bloodless strings, sitting on scorched-looking blackish-green marks.  Mulder knew that color was from the aliens’ blood after it dried; he’d seen it several times before.  Nearby was a broken gold charm bracelet that he recognized as having seen Freda wearing which cemented his suspicions.

 

“Oh no!” William cried, turning and looking as Rosie suddenly darted away towards something else.  It was a medium-sized brown and white lump. They hurried over and found the Shepherd sniffing over the body of the unnamed bulldog, whose face appeared to have been burned or melted off.  “What happened to him?”

 

“He must have bitten the intruder’s hand and the green blood killed him,” Scully said sadly.  “That’s why the fingers were left behind.  The aliens’ blood is like hydrochloric acid to mammals.”

 

“It wasn’t an intruder—it was Freda,” Mulder said furiously.  “She must have been an alien-human hybrid, probably planted nearby to get to us. I recognized both the shirt she was wearing, and the bracelet near the fingers.”

 

They began to walk around looking at the damage, though they stayed together including Rosie.  “But Freda could have killed us before we left, couldn’t she?” William asked.

 

“Yeah, but she didn’t know where we were staying out in the woods since getting at us while sleeping was her best chance,” Scully pointed out.  “She knew we were ex-government agents.. Either that, or she was still human enough not to want to kill us.”

 

“No, I think Spender had her wait until we were away to do this,” Mulder said.  “Otherwise, yeah, William’s right, she could have killed us either before we left, or after we got back.”

 

“I still don’t get it,” William said miserably as they walked between the bodies of two of the black and white cows, both shot point-blank in the head with dried blood coating their faces.  “What a waste.”

 

Mulder let Scully explain exactly who CGB Spender was, and why they’d thought he died in the Arizona desert—until now.  Though neither could quite believe it, there was little doubt as to who it had to be.

 

“Buddy—where’s Buddy?” William suddenly cried, interrupting his mother.  “Did you see him?”

 

Both shook their heads, exchanging a worried look.  The only bodies they hadn’t found so far was three of the dogs, including Buddy, and Pong, the horse.  Freda had even massacred the goats in the pen before burning down the barn, and apparently slaughtered the chickens with a shotgun.

 

The boy ran off towards the woods shouting for the dog and Scully started to call him back, but Mulder put a hand on her arm.   “He’ll be fine, the aliens are gone,” he said bleakly.  “For some crazy fucking reason that sick bastard has always wanted us alive, and this is proof that he’s not about to kill us.”

 

Scully reluctantly agreed and with one last look at where William was running across the field with Rosie at his side, then turned and followed Mulder away from where the remains of the barn smoldered.  They pushed through the bushes growing near the cow pond and found one more dog’s body there, the curly-haired mutt who had once chewed on Scully’s shoes, but none of the other missing animals. In the mud around the water they saw several deep, round horse hoof prints.  Even though neither was Daniel Boone, it was obvious that Pong had run this way and, hopefully, was still alive somewhere.

 

“Should we burn them?” Scully said uncertainly as they walked back towards the black, smoking bones of the house, looking around.  “We certainly can’t bury them all.”

 

“Yeah, I th—“  Mulder was interrupted by shouting in the distance.

 

They turned and saw William jumping up and down back by the treeline, roughly two hundred yards away, waving his arms for them to come.  They couldn’t make out what he was saying, but they could hear the urgency in his voice.  Both broke into a run.

 

“I found Buddy, he’s hurt, come look at him Mom,” William yelled as soon as they got closer, then hurried over to the base of the tree that held their treehouse.  The structure was, Mulder noted with relief, seemingly untouched.  “Can you fix him, Mom?  Please?”

 

Mulder stood over them as William and Scully knelt next to the little dog.  Buddy looked to be in bad shape, with foamy white froth on his lips and panting tongue, one hind leg bent at an odd angle.  While Scully looked him over, Mulder noticed that Rosie laid down in front of Buddy and put her head on her paws, her nose only millimeters away from the terrier’s, her brown eyes obviously worried as she watched her friend.

 

He realized that the little dog must have remembered the time they stayed in the treehouse for the afternoon and since it was probably the only safe place he could find, returned here after being hurt.  Buddy yelped and whined a few times while Scully examined him, but finally she sat back on her heels with a sigh.  “It looks like someone kicked him, if I had to guess. He’s got broken ribs, though I don’t think they’ve punctured a lung, as well as a dislocated hind leg, and a lot of bruises.  I think he’ll be all right, William.”

 

“What do you need me to do?” the boy asked worriedly, gently stroking the dog’s head.  Buddy’s white-ringed brown eyes rolled up to look at him with what Mulder thought was the most open gratitude he’d ever seen a dog display, and his stubby tail flopped against the ground a few times.

 

“Why don’t you two go to the shelter and get supplies, and I’ll stay here.  Without being able to take X-rays I can’t be sure I’ll set everything right, but I’ll do what I can.”

 

“You’ll fix him,” the boy said with confidence, though his blue eyes were still worried.  “Ready, Dad?”

 

Scully gave them a list of supplies she needed, then sat down next to the little brown terrier and stroked his small head gently, murmuring to him in a comforting tone.  As he and William left Mulder wondered if the dog was really going to make it, or if she’d sent them away so their son wouldn’t have to watch him die.

 

#          #          #

 

Scully sat in the peaceful woods and it was like being in another world after the insane, mind-bending events of the past few days.  For just a moment she wanted to believe that the last seventy-two or so hours hadn’t happened, or that it had all been a nightmare.  That she’d wake up in their treehouse snuggled up next to Mulder and get ready for another day working on their farm.  She had never tried to pretend that the invasion hadn’t happened at all, so she wondered what it meant that she did in this situation.  But if she was cracking, she was sure it was understandable—and that she wasn’t the only one.

 

She quietly and gently stroked the little brown dog’s head, and he seemed to relax and slip into a peaceful doze.  Rosie had stayed, and still lay at his head with their noses almost touching.  Though Scully wasn’t sure if he had internal injuries, and couldn’t know without modern equipment, she didn’t think William could handle it at the moment if she gave a true prognosis.  It was likely that he really did have only broken ribs, although if he began to show signs of distress or blood around his mouth after she’d treated him then she was prepared for the worst.

 

What would they do now, she wondered dispiritedly.  With the sun shining, birds chirping, opulent green-leafed branches swaying overhead, it was lovely here.  A light breeze blew towards the farm, gusting the scents of high summer to her nose.  She couldn’t even see or smell the smoke from here.  Things didn’t seem so bad.  At least until she remembered.  Of course they could go stay in the shelter, but why?  For what?  What were they living for?  So that goddamned Smoking Man could continue to watch and torment them every time they thought they were safe?

 

She shook her head angrily, unaware that a small spray of tears were flung from her cheeks until she saw the bright sparkles around her and felt the dampness on her face.  _I can’t believe that_ , she thought with determination as she dashed the wetness from her face with both hands.  _We’ve got our lives and that’s precious.  We can and will rebuild at the shelter, or maybe find somewhere else.  We have to stop them, find a way to end their occupation.  I don’t know how, I just know we can do it.  We_ have _to.  Even if this hadn’t happened, I know we weren’t going to sit by and let them continue to torture and kill people.  It will be far from easy and doubtlessly dangerous.  I can only hope and believe that we will find some way to combat them._

 

Scully became aware of her empty belly as it growled.  In the shock of seeing the farm destroyed they’d all forgotten that they hadn’t eaten in half a day, and had no real solid food for almost twenty-four hours.  She looked around, not seeing anything edible and besides, she didn’t want to leave Buddy even though there was nothing she could do for him at the moment.  She wasn’t about to pop the dog’s leg back into its socket until his ribs were wrapped. But maybe he could use some water, she thought, and it would be good for her to have a drink as well.

 

Though she didn’t have a container to carry water, they had previously planned for this contingency in case they forgot to bring something to drink to the treehouse.  She got up and stood with her back against the tree, facing away from the rear of the treehouse.  Then she walked five steps into the forest, turned to the right and went another twelve paces before stopping.  A small but fast stream burbled through the loamy forest floor at her feet.  Nearby, a tarnished tin cup hung from a branch by a length of twine.  She broke the string to free the cup and dipped it in the running stream.  Though they had usually boiled all their drinking water on general principle, Scully figured that it wouldn’t hurt the dog as long as the water was flowing.

 

While she was helping Buddy get a drink from the cup Mulder and William returned, riding across the field on Ping.  She noted that while Mulder’s feet weren’t dragging on the ground, it was a near thing.  Both wore packed backpacks and Mulder, who sat behind the boy, held several large cloth bags on his lap.

 

Before doing anything else Mulder handed her a small round tin of cocktail sausages and a plastic fork, and urged her to eat before she passed out from low blood sugar.

 

An hour or so later she had done what she could for the little dog and was sure that, if nothing else, he was a lot more comfortable with his ribs firmly wrapped and femur back in its pelvic socket.  Now it was up to his previous good health and God to pull him through.  She gave him a small dose of Tramadol for pain, which she knew was safe for dogs since it had been prescribed once for Queequeg, and was relieved when he finally fell into a deep, normal healing sleep.

 

They spent the rest of the day hauling the animals’ bodies into a large pile, then poured kerosene over them.  All three threw a match onto the pile, and walked away once they were sure it was burning.  Luckily most of the cows had fallen close to each other, though they did have to use Ping to help them haul a couple closer to the others.  Though they were at first concerned about the smoke, they realized that if no one had come to investigate the burning of the farm, more smoke in the area probably wouldn’t make a difference.

 

Though she didn’t say anything, Scully wondered about salvaging some of the meat, especially when the smell of cooking flesh began to permeate the area.  Then two things occurred to her: first, that this had probably happened the day before, and without having the entrails removed, abdominal gasses could have already spoiled it.  Second, that it wouldn’t be surprising if the meat was poisoned.  Though they assumed the Smoking Man wanted them alive by his past actions, it wouldn’t surprise either of them to discover he’d done something as repulsive as that.

 

There was some discussion about going to the shelter, but it was beginning to get dark by the time they were finished so they decided to stay put for the night.  They set up a small tent for William and Buddy a few yards away and, after a cold dinner of canned foods, Mulder and Scully climbed up into the treehouse for what she thought might be the very last time. Who knew if, once they left, they would ever return?

 

“You know what I’ve really missed these last few weeks?” Mulder said as they got ready for bed, a single candle burning on the nightstand but shedding plenty of flickering light to see by.  “Playing cards with you and William.  I never thought I would enjoy it so much but since we haven’t had time for it, I’ve really missed it.”

 

Though it was warm in the treehouse, it wasn’t stuffy due to the built-in ventilation system.  Mulder had opened the windows before they’d left, and within the shade of the tree it stayed at a comfortable temperature despite the summer heat.  Now a soft breeze blew through and eddied around the room, ruffling their hair.

 

Scully nodded, pulling her shirt over her head and wrinkling her nose.  It had been at least three days since she’d showered, and the camp shower was gone with the house.  Taking sponge baths in buckets would have to do from now on.  “I know, me too.  I suspect we’re going to have even less time to play trying to gather enough food to last us through winter.”

 

“Do you think we should stay at the shelter, or try to find somewhere else?” Mulder dropped his khaki shorts, showing a pair of threadbare plaid briefs.  He threw back the covers and flopped onto the bed on his back, but Scully held up a hand.  “I was thinking about—what?”

 

“Take off your clothes.”

 

He looked over at her, adorably clueless.  “What?  If something hap—“

 

“Mulder, I said _take off your clothes_. Now _.”_

 

Finally, she saw that he got it.  While she was taking off her pants, he sat up to shuck the undershirt and then lifted his hips to shimmy off the briefs.  He was already half-hard, she was glad to see.  And was going to get harder, if she had any say in the matter.

 

Though making love might have seemed like an odd activity after the days they’d just endured, Scully knew it was the best way to cope.  Mulder had always been able to make her forget everything when they were together this way, and they both desperately needed that now. 

 

Naked, she climbed up onto the generous bed and stretched out on top of his long, lean body. Scully propped her elbows on either side of his shoulders with her hands meeting in his hair, legs draped between his, and leaned down to kiss him.  Mulder responded enthusiastically, wrapping one arm around her upper back, his other hand cupping the side of her face.  It drove her wild when he did that, showing her how much he loved and cherished her. 

 

Mulder’s hands began to wander as they kissed, gently caressing as they traveled over her back and down to her ass.  She began to writhe and rub her body against his, feeling her arousal rising rapidly.  But she was in no hurry; it was possible that this might be one of the very last times they made love.  Or, who knew how long it might be since they needed to come up with a way to live safely.  She wanted it to last as long as they could manage.

 

While kissing and gasping for breath around each other’s lips, Mulder rolled them over on their sides so that they were facing one another.  Scully’s arm ended up beneath his neck, but she put her other hand to work exploring him as well.  Finally their breathing got so heavy that they had to break the marathon kiss, though their lips barely moved apart.  “No matter how many times you touch me, I still get goosebumps,” she murmured against his breath.  “You are the one true love of my life.”

 

“And you mine,” he whispered back, his lips feathering against his.  “You are all that’s kept me sane these last few years, my anchor, always my touchstone.”

 

“I want to make love with you all night, our ages be damned,” she smiled briefly against his lips.  “I don’t feel my age right now; do you?”

 

“Never, when we’re together,” Mulder breathed.  To prove his point, he pressed his erection hard against her thighs.  She lifted her top leg and let him slip between, though they were at the wrong angle to do anything more at the moment. 

 

Instead they took their time making love to each other with every part of their bodies, being cognizant of William sleeping not too far away.  They had never been quiet in bed, but now having to do so brought a new dimension to their lovemaking.  Whereas Scully had once counted on Mulder’s penchant of talking in bed to help her know when she was doing something he liked, now she paid more attention to his body language.  Their connection was deeper and more profound than ever before.  She hadn’t thought they could ever be closer, but here they were.

 

Every time their arousal rose to the point where it seemed like they just had to join, both of them backed off.  They took turns caressing and gentling each other until they once again rose to the peak of desire.  Their eyes met every chance they got, exchanging looks of deep adoration and aching desire, hiding nothing from each other.

 

Though it didn’t last all night, it _was_ some time before they finally curled up together, sated, the candle burned down to a stump and guttering.  Neither dozed off immediately. Scully was lying pressed against Mulder on her side, him on his back with an arm beneath her neck.  Her legs were tangled with his and she gently stroked the damp hair on his chest.  “That’s a memory I’ll treasure for the rest of my life, no matter how long it may last.”

 

He rumbled a low chuckle in her ear where it was resting on his chest.  “I’ll fight to stay alive just to be able to do that again.”  She smiled and turned her head to kiss his warm, moist skin.  He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.  “We’ll do it, Scully.  We’ll stop them this time.”

 

“Just the two of us? Against the darkness?”

 

“It always has been, since the moment we met, but now we have everything to live, and fight, for.  He’s sleeping just a few feet away.  We’re not going to let our world end like this, where William can’t have love and a family in fear of having it all taken away from him.”

 

Scully felt determination fill her, in a way she hadn’t experienced since long ago, when she was a brash young FBI agent positive that she could make a difference.  It replaced the discouragement she’d felt all day since seeing the destruction of their farm.  “You’re right, Mulder.  We have to do all we can, and then some.”

 

“Good. Now that that’s settled, let’s get some sleep, what little we can before morning.”  His voice was gently amused, and then he yawned long and bone-crackingly, his muscles stiffening beneath her before he relaxed limply into the mattress.

 

She cuddled even closer, holding him firmly around the waist.  His free hand came up and stroked her hair briefly, making her feel even more cherished.  In her mind’s eye she was remembering that moment when they first met almost twenty years ago, how innocuous it had been.  What it had turned out to mean not only for them, but for the whole human race.  They had failed to stop the invasion the first time around, but that didn’t mean all was lost. 

 

They could, and they would, end this nightmare.  No longer did she want to believe, she truly and honestly did.

 

_finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Author’s Notes:
> 
> This is the longest fanfiction I’ve ever written, and also the biggest pain in my ass. I had never done a WIP before but wanted try it; never again. I hated having new ideas as I wrote and not being able to go back to a previous chapter to change something to make them fit in. It did make me work harder, which I normally don’t mind, but I found it distracting and aggravating. So this is my last ever true WIP, though I may publish finished longer works chapter-by-chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Now let me address my incredible, wonderful, amazing and blushing (by now, I suspect) beta reader, Mimic117 or Mimic Elevenseven as she’s also known. I can’t thank her enough for all the hard work and time she put in on this novella.
> 
>  
> 
> Next, I would like to thank Google for being able to find just about everything I had a question about. Seriously. Of course, with the browsing history I have now, if the NSA, CIA, Scotland Yard, KGB, and FBI aren’t watching me I’d be very surprised. 
> 
>  
> 
> Last but never least, I am NOT planning a sequel to this novella. I’m not saying that won’t change, but as for now-nope. They’re off on their next adventure without us watching. Sorry.


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